


The Mighty Dregs

by wylanvanwreck (luckyjesper)



Series: The Mighty Dregs - A Modern Six of Crows AU [1]
Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-01-08 06:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12248466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckyjesper/pseuds/wylanvanwreck
Summary: Kaz Rietveld creates trouble for all of Ketterdam High. Everyone knows his name. Students pay him to hack into social media, make copies of answer keys he’s stolen, and even break through the school’s firewall to bump up a couple grades. Never once has he been caught by administration, but after a tumble with a fellow student ends up confronting the new dean not even a week into his junior year. However, rather than handing him a suspension, he decides to hire the troublemaker to spy on one of the new kids he deems worse than Kaz himself. Due to a strained financial situation shared between him and his older brother Jordie, Kaz accepts the job. But as he gets to know his target, Wylan Hendriks, he begins to wonder what exactly he's gotten himself into.





	1. TMD Ch. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inej Ghafa yearns to climb her way to the National Championship with her colorguard troupe  
> Nina Zenik pursues fashion design and theater while butting heads with the hockey jock  
> Matthias Helvar, meanwhile, aspires to get the hockey team to play-offs once he’s appointed as captain  
> Jesper Fahey hopes to excel in drumline, though finds himself distracted by the new flautist of the band room  
> Wylan Hendriks works on receiving a full-fledged scholarship at an art school while avoiding his father, the dean  
> Kuwei Yul-Bo stumbles into the most ragtag group of kids on campus and wonders if he’ll ever actually fit in  
> All of them have to rely on each other to get through what appears will be their most difficult academic year yet - even during the times they’d rather strangle one another.
> 
> Chapters will be posted Mondays and Fridays, starting October 2nd, 2017!!

**16 August 2016**

**Inej**

    “How long till you think you'll be here?”

    “Maybe in ten?” Nina’s voice crackled from the other end of the call. “A co-worker needs help closing up shop. Thought I'd stick around. Don't tell me they left you all by yourself.”

    Inej drummed her fingers on the table, leaning in her chair.  The coffeehouse was vacant minus her, left alone to the humming of the one coffee-maker running, brewing Nina’s favorite. _If you want to make me really happy after a long day at work, caramel macchiato, upside down. Retail requires caffeine._ Inej had laughed at the time. But Nina had had a tiresome shift that evening, and it was the least she could do for her best friend. “I can take care of myself, Nina.”

    “It's still rude as fuck,” said Nina indignantly. “Have you closed yet?”

    “Yep.” Inej glanced at the gate blocking the entrance into the coffeehouse from the vast halls of the Goedmedbridge Mall. Nearly all customers had vacated the premises, leaving late-night employees to wrap up their shifts. For half of them, including Inej and Nina, it was the first school night of the year. Morning was bound to be absolute torture - the girls had made a habit of staying up way past midnight, and Nina hated the concept of starting school a week early on Wednesday.

_“I just really don’t get it. A Wednesday?”_

_“It’s so we can have the whole week off for Thanksgiving.”_

_“But a Wednesday, Inej.”_

    Now Nina sighed through the earpiece. “Alright, babe. Sit tight, okay?”

    “Okay, Mom.”

    “Hush. See you in a bit.” She made a kissing noise, and then she hung up.

    Inej dropped her phone on the table. It popped against the wood, echoing throughout the coffeehouse though the hum of the brewer outlived it still. The scent of the beans wafted to her nose, the persistent heat making her eyes water. Her lips parted in an obnoxious yawn, arms stretched above her head, shoulders blades bunching together. Sleep threatened to weigh down her eyelids. She had to get up.

    Inej went to the back of the shop, where Nina’s cup sat waiting on the counter beside the brewer. She plucked it up, pumped the caramel syrup first, and stuck it under the spout of the brewer, yanking the lever and filling the cup about halfway. Inej closed her eyes, the steam hissing from the spout and condensing into droplets on her arms.

    She was going to be a junior. Another year in high school. Another year of classes. Another year of colorguard competitions and a shot at varsity. Another year of chronic procrastination. Another year of spending every day with her friends.

    Of course, Nina lived with her in her parents’ house. They’d had each other the entire span of the summer months. And Jesper had popped in a couple of times during the summer - often with two boxes of a dozen donuts with sprinkles to chow down - but he’d spent most of his time helping out his father on the ranch. Of course, he’d tried his best to keep in contact. Just this morning he’d sent her a picture of his school schedule, checking to see if they shared any classes. Algebra 2 was going to be very interesting with her favorite class-clown in her defense against Ms. Van Houden.

    As for her only other friend-

_Click._

    Inej’s head jerked up from popping a lid onto Nina’s coffee cup, heart skipping a beat like the second-hand of a clock. She waited a moment before setting down the cup and sweeping a broom into her hands from the corner, heading to the front of the shop. The gate was still intact, and all the tables were empty. She narrowed her eyes but didn’t relinquish the hold on the broom.

    Something squeaked behind her. The slip of a shoe.

    Whirling, Inej lifted the broom, lungs constricting. Then she deflated. “Are you kidding me right now?”

    A boy her age with bitter black eyes leaned against the cashier’s counter, a cane balanced on the toe of his boot. In one hand, dressed in a ratty faux-leather glove, he held the coffee she made for Nina. “Forget something?”

    Inej waited for him to put the cup down before flipping the broom in her hands and pricking his arm with the bristles. “What is the matter with you? It’s almost midnight and you decide to break and enter through the back door like it’s no big deal?”

    “So your weapon of choice was a broom. I would’ve went for the boiling hot coffee.”

    “Always have to be dramatic, don’t you, Kaz?”

    Kaz shrugged.

    Inej shook her head. Kaz Rietveld was the most well-known troublemaker of Ketterdam High, raising hell for office administration since his freshman year. She often wondered how shitty her luck must’ve been for her to end up in the same class as him, to end up with his vague form of friendship. If she could even call it that. “Why are you here?”

    “Hmm, let’s see.” Kaz fabricated a wistful glance around the shop. “I came to a coffeehouse, where they brew coffee, made by baristas.” He skimmed the menu hanging above the cash registers. “Maybe, just maybe, I thought I’d come by to visit my favorite barista and, oh, grab some coffee while I’m at it.”

    Inej propped the broom against the wall and planted her hands on her hips. “We’re closed.”

    “You’re still wearing your apron.”

    “I said we’re closed.”

    “Well, I don’t really care. And, unless I’m hallucinating, I’m pretty sure this thing you made for Nina is piping hot.”

    Inej rolled her eyes and brushed past Kaz to the brewer. There was still some coffee in the pot. “What size?”

    “Grande.”

    “Tall, got it. And what kind?”

    “Mocha.”

    “Black.”

    Kaz’s brows shot into his hairline. “Have I overestimated you?”

    “Quite the opposite, actually.” Inej grabbed the smallest cup in the rack and propped it under the brewer. Kaz slid his phone out from his pocket and glued his eyes to the screen. She watched him for a moment before turning back to her work. “What’s your schedule like?”

    “Didn’t pick it up.”

    “Aren’t you even a little curious to see what you got?”

    He scoffed. “I already know what I got.”

    “Hacked into the school server?”

    “How dare you.”

    “You never answered my first question.”

    Kaz didn’t look up from his phone. “Let’s save that for tomorrow.”

    “Fine.” Inej piled a dollop of whipped cream onto the surface of his beverage, popped on a lid, and set it on the counter near his elbow. “Bump it off, I’m not making you another one. And you’d be cleaning up the mess.”

    Kaz took a sip. He smacked his lips. “That’s a mocha.”

    “Be glad I had mercy on you. Now go.”

    Balancing on his cane, he rose from the counter. “In a hurry to be rid of me?”

    “You’re not exactly charming.”

    Kaz’s lips quirked. “Tell Zenik I said hi.” Then he headed through the back where he came, and Inej went and locked the door behind him.

    As she came back to the front, snatching Nina’s coffee along the way, Nina herself was waiting behind the gate, scrolling through her phone. Stealthily, Inej snatched her things from the table she’d left them and headed for the side door.

    It took Nina a few good minutes before she looked up, frowned past the gate, then turned to see Inej. “Holy shit!” she cried, planting a hand on her chest. Her eyes looked ready to budge from her skull. “Inej, I love you, but you can’t just do that.”

    Inej held up the coffee. “Is this enough to convince you to forgive me?”

    “I’ll always forgive you. Thank you, dear.” Nina accepted the cup from Inej and took a sip. “All locked up?”

    “Yes, of course. I’m not negligent.”

    “Okay, okay, I was just checking.” Nina flagged a hand. “Now let’s go home and pull an all-nighter before school.”

    “Sounds good. Disney marathon?”

    “Ooh, yes! Only the ones with songs, so we can sing as loud as possible and wake the neighbors.”

    Inej laughed, looped her arm with Nina’s, and started out the mall. “Oh, by the way. You won’t believe who snuck into the shop.”

#

**Kaz**

    The underground train rattled along the tracks and caused the people within to sway. Kaz clutched one of the poles and braced against it as the subway pulled to another jarring stop, taking advantage of the lack of motion to unplug his finger from the lid and sip from his mocha. It was still warm, and very sweet. Inej had made it perfectly.

    A stranger with a backpack thrown over his shoulder entered the train and took a seat before it started up again. Kaz sacrificed a glance before letting his mind wander with the music filtering into his ears from the little buds he’d placed in them. It kept most people from attempting conversation, and now with the stranger looking at him and the cane snug beneath his arm, Kaz wondered if this was not one of those times. Transferring his cup to his other hand, he plucked out one bud and said, “Keep your seat.”

    “Are you sure?” The boy couldn’t be much younger than Kaz. He had honey-brown eyes and a black shock of hair atop his head. “It’s not a problem.”

    “You’re right, it’s not.” Then Kaz returned the bud and looked away.

    The boy dropped his gaze.

    The conductor’s voice ripped through the speakers. The faulty technology disrupted his words, producing a sound that closely resembled the honking of a goose. Kaz frowned as the sub pulled to another stop. This time, he released the pole.

    Heading off the train, Kaz downed the last of the mocha and tossed it into the trash can. He made for the stairs above ground, catching the strange boy out of the corner of his eye. They broke free of the subway. Kaz slowed to a stop, frown deepening as a pain shot up his leg. He waited it off, watching the boy pause to check his phone then start for a small suburb, one of few nestled within the cracks of Ketterdam’s urban atmosphere. He passed under a streetlamp, disappeared, and Kaz headed in the opposite direction.

    Water splashed over his feet as he trudged through an alley, the walls on either side of him marked with graffiti. A blocky sketch of a silver lion roared at him, marked with the words DIME LIONS in green beside it. Kaz seethed. The water under his feet could've evaporated from the heat of his hatred.

    Rounding the corner, Kaz came onto a street lined with dilapidated buildings, tilting precariously, a row of dominoes that could be toppled with a gust of breath. At the end of the corner stood the tallest, a neon sign protruding from its roof: _THE EMERALD PALACE._ Previously, it had been an abandoned hotel known as the Slat, owned by an older gang, until the property was overrun and bought by the landlord Pekka Rollins, and now the rooms were made available for rent like tiny apartments. The place was a nest for rats and thieves, the lobby renovated as a gambling den where some men traded in drugs rather than dollar bills. When the property owner himself was a gang boss looking to rake in the cold hard cash any way he could, any crime could go unnoticed. That’s why the Rietvelds shacked up in one of the highest levels of the building. Jordie wanted to ensure their safety, and their shabby apartment was all they could afford.

    Kaz limped into the lobby, shielding his nose from a cloud of smoke some deadbeat gambler blew in his direction. He had half a mind to pluck the cigar from his sausage-like fingers and brand his neck with the lit end, but it was already getting late, and he didn’t have the energy to handle the repercussions despite the growing temptation to do it anyway.

    He rode the elevator alone, slumping against the side as it carried him up, up, up the floors. _2, 3, 4_ . The little gauge above the door pinged like a bell with each floor passed. Kaz stared at the gauge, shifting his weight back to his walking stick once it hit the number _11_. He sauntered down the halls, fishing a key out of his pocket. He could still taste the sweetness of the mocha on his tongue. He’d pay Inej tomorrow for her trouble.

    The Rietvelds’ apartment was tiny. One room held both the living space and the kitchen, the other was a bedroom they had no other option but to share, and then an even smaller bathroom that could only fit one person at a time. When they’d first moved in, Kaz remembered how he’d skirmished with Jordie over the mirror.

_“Hey, I wasn’t finished with my hair!”_

_“Put on a beanie, I have to brush my fucking teeth.”_

_“Eat a mint, I have to do my hair.”_

_“I will squirt toothpaste into your eyes.”_

Now Jordie was bent over the kitchen counter, stirring something in a mug with a spoon. From the scent wafting to his nostrils, Kaz guessed hot cocoa - his brother’s favorite. Jordie continued stirring, his back turned to Kaz, oblivious to his presence until he set the spoon in the sink and turned, mug poised at his lips. “Hi,” said Kaz.

    Jordie took a long sip before lowering the mug. “How long have you been out?”

    “A couple hours.”

    “It’s midnight.”

    Kaz shrugged.

    Jordie’s furrowed his brow in frustration. “Well, it won’t be my fault when you wake up tomorrow morning feeling like shit. So I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

    Kaz ignored him, making a beeline straight to their room. He collapsed onto his bed.

    “You realize I was joking.” Jordie leaned against the doorway, mug clasped in both hands.

    “You state the obvious.”

    “Yet you’re acting very irritable. I’m surprised you haven’t rolled your eyes yet.” Jordie came over and sat at the edge of Kaz’s bed, planting a hand on the knee of his bad lag. “Hey.”

    Kaz’s head rolled up. “What?”

    He hesitated. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

    Kaz exhaled sharply. Jordie. Always trying get him to talk. Always trying to pry him open as if he was a book, as if every thought that passed through his brain would filter past his lips in a way his brother would understand. Not that he’d care either way. “Can I get some sleep?”

    “Don’t you want to change into something more comfortable? That coat could easily double as a strait jacket.”

    “Maybe I should put you in it and stick you in the broom closet so I can get some peace and quiet.”

    Jordie shook his head. “Okay, okay, I can take a hint.” He squeezed his knee and stood. “But I am getting you up at six o’clock, on the dot. I have to be at work fifteen after seven, so I want you ready as soon as possible.”

    “Then I’ll talk to you at six tomorrow morning.”

    “Ha, ha.” Jordie offered Kaz a smirk. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite your ass.” He left.

    Kaz groaned, pulling a pillow down over his face to muffle the sound. Jordie should’ve known better. Working three minimum-wage jobs was taking a toll on the both of them - he couldn’t remember how many times he had to wait till midnight to get to sleep only to wake up at 4 in the morning, just so Jordie could keep up the income. They needed the money, but it was never enough. Rollins would bump up rent every year to another fifty bucks, and since the Rietvelds had nowhere else to go, Jordie indulged the gang boss. It meant their survival. But Kaz still had to pick pockets to get them by, something he’d thought would come to an end after finding refuge from the streets.

    Truth of the matter was, they _did_ have the money to get by. Jordie hid the small fortune off somewhere in the apartment Kaz couldn’t even find. He’d torn up the wooden panels off the floor. He’d checked the bathroom cabinets. He’d unzipped the cover of Jordie’s mattress, a bitter laugh escaping him when he found nothing but padding and memory foam. It was during arguments about their strained financial situation - a situation that could readily be fixed if Jordie would cooperate and give up the money - that Kaz despised his older brother.

    _Dad didn’t die for this_ , he thought. _We were supposed to get out of this fucking mess._

Kaz was still awake by the time Jordie came to bed.

#

**Wylan**

    “Do you really need _all_ this paper the first day?” huffed Wylan, lugging tall stacks of nine-by-thirteen sketch paper to his mother’s case by the desk. He’d been unloading cardboard boxes all evening, furnishing bedrooms and filling kitchen cabinets full of coffee mugs that could satisfy the whole neighborhood rather than two new occupants recently moved into the small house. He wasn’t completely thrilled to reverse to a stage of packing only to _un_ pack again.

    “Believe me, with as many students as there are at Ketterdam High, that paper won’t last a week.” His mother, Marya, wiped her brow with a paint-stained hand and sighed. “You alone fill a sketchbook in the span of seventy-two hours.”

    Wylan chuckled in between sharp intakes of breath. God, he was exhausted. “At least that’s three days of productivity. There was nothing better to do this summer, and staring at a wall didn’t sound appealing.”

    “It kept you focused,” said Marya. She sat in the desk chair, the faint glow of the lamp illuminating her face. “Didn’t let your mind wander. To him.”

    Wylan’s smile subsided, and he pursed his lips. “Well, I’ll be watching for him this year. The last thing I need is to think about him in areas of my life he can’t affect anymore.”

    “So is that topic off-limits between us?”

    “Of course, not. It’s too recent. I won’t be the one to censor you.”

    Marya nodded. “For your sake, let’s, uh, change the subject.” She folded her hands in her lap and beamed. “What are your classes like? You stopped by the school for your schedule, right?”

    “Yes,” began Wylan, “but I didn’t get a chance to look it over. I can get it from my bag real quick.”

    “Please. I need a break from all this first-day prep.”

    Offering her a thumbs-up, Wylan scurried down a short hallway and went in his room. He stumbled over an empty cardboard box, a strip of packing tape sticking to the heel of his sock, and tore open the satchel resting on his little twin-sized bed. Inside was a ratty sketchbook, a glasses case, the tie of the uniform from his old school, a couple of white erasers with edges ravaged by his picking them with his nails when anxious, a grimy pencil, and, at the very bottom, a crushed-up ball of thick blue paper. He plucked it out amongst the carnage and started flattening it out.

    Wylan hadn’t realized he’d crunched it up that morning when he’d gone to pick it up from the school. Finding the administration office had been like walking into a maze after someone flashed a bright light into his eyes. He’d driven in circles around the school three times before finding a parking space and getting out to search on foot. Even though his father had taught economics there for several years, he’d never taken Wylan to wander around or even visit him in class. “ _You’d only be a distraction_ ,” he’d told him. A part of Wylan had hoped at the time his father only wanted the best for him, to retain interest in the fancy, rich-kid private school instead of being subjected to the bad influences skulking the campus of Ketterdam High. Now he knew that was a foolish hope, one he’d never trick himself into believing again.

    Nevertheless, a small tour would’ve been a helpful tool in avoiding stumbling around like a headless chicken with no idea where to go.

    Wylan was able to locate the assistance of a teacher who pointed him in the right direction. He’d given her his thanks before hurrying off. He’d gone through the attendance office, then to switchboard to find four staff members handing out schedules to each class. He’d tentatively wormed into the juniors’ line, heart pounding. Everyone around him was a stranger. There were many of them, swarming into the office in clumps like bees. A hollow pit bloomed within his chest. It suffocated him.

    “Last name?” the woman asked as he got to the front of the line.

    “H-Hendriks,”  he stammered.

    “Marya Hendriks’ son? She’s the new art teacher, yes?”

    “Yes, ma’am, that’s my mom,” he said, hoping he sounded proud.

    Flitting through the stack of blue papers, the woman said kindly, “Well, it’s good to have a couple new Crows in the nest.”

    The crow was the mascot of Ketterdam High. It made perfect sense, Wylan thought. He’d heard a few caws from the trees when traipsing through the quad.

    “Anyway.” The woman handed him his schedule. “Here you go.”

    Wylan was about to thank her when a door to the right of the counter creaked open. A man, lean and rather handsome, shouldered through the gap, eyes glued to a cluster of papers clutched in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. He paused in the doorway to take a sip.

    Wylan’s throat constricted. His fist bunched the blue paper into a ball.

_Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up, God, please, don’t look up._

    The man turned on his heel and went down a hall.

    A heavy breath rushed out Wylan’s lungs. The woman gave him a funny look. He returned it with a sheepish grin, and then he left the office in a hurry, his pulse a frantic pump. He wanted to run away. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between that man and himself. He wanted to go home, tell his mother he couldn’t do it, he had to drop out, he’d fail his classes anyway. He wanted to -

    The toe of Wylan’s shoe caught the corner of the curb in front of his car. He cried out, his hands held in front of him like a cat’s paws to stop his fall.

    “Whoa, hey!” Two arms rushed in underneath and held him up. The sudden pressure beneath Wylan’s armpit made him yelp, but the pain didn’t last once he was set back on his feet. “Easy, now,” said a voice, deep yet gentle, as the arms released him. A boy his age stepped back, hands raised, gray eyes searching to make sure he was stable. Then, his lanky figure relaxed. “Damn, that could’ve been some serious asphalt burn.”

    But Wylan wasn’t listening. He stared up at the other boy, who stood a whole head taller than him. He had deep brown skin, nimble limbs, and was wearing the most ridiculous pair of green plaid shorts Wylan had ever seen. His eyes kept darting up and down the boy’s figure nervously.

    The boy cocked a brow and waved a hand. “Hello-o? Got dust bunnies for brains?”

    Wylan shook his head and swallowed hard. “Sorry. Um, thanks.” He hesitated. “You are…?”

    The boy smirked and clasped his hands together. “Jesper Fahey. Junior at Ketterdam High. Did you just enroll? Freshman, right?”

    “Transfer,” declared Wylan defensively. “Junior.”

    “Really? You look so young.” Something in his tone either hinted at teasing or condescending. “So, new kid, watch your step your first day on campus, because, lemme tell you, not everyone’s friendly as yours truly. They might shove you into a locker. Or, worse, the trash can.”

    Wylan frowned. “You’re not threatening me, are you?”

    Jesper planted a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Good lord, no. I’m just telling you how the game’s played here.” Then he offered him a genuine smile, radiant as the sun. “Feel free to track me down tomorrow morning. If you really are a junior, then you’ll have no problem finding me.” He started past him, patting his shoulder as he went. “Take care, new kid.”

    “My name’s Wylan,” called Wylan, a hot flush creeping up his neck.

    “Take care, Wylan!” Jesper waved a hand in the air, carrying on towards administration.

    Wylan shook his head, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. When he opened them again, he was back in his room, his schedule unraveled in his hands, the faint image of Jesper Fahey still lingering in his vision. That smile had been the highlight of his day. He couldn’t explain how he knew it, but he was certain he’d be seeing an awful lot of him this year.

    “Wylan, honey? Is everything okay?”

    “Coming!” Wylan spared the schedule a glimpse, barely understanding the  letters printed on the paper - all jumbled like children’s block letters scattered in a trunk - and staggered past cardboard boxes on the way back out of his room, to where his mother was waiting.


	2. TMD Ch. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaz Rietveld creates trouble for all of Ketterdam High. Everyone knows his name. Students pay him to hack into social media, make copies of answer keys he’s stolen, and even break through the school’s firewall to bump up a couple grades. Never once has he been caught by administration, but after a tumble with a fellow student ends up confronting the new dean not even a week into his junior year. However, rather than handing him a suspension, he decides to hire the troublemaker to spy on one of the new kids he deems worse than Kaz himself. Due to a strained financial situation shared between him and his older brother Jordie, Kaz accepts the job. But as he gets to know his target, Wylan Hendriks, he begins to wonder what exactly he's gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inej Ghafa yearns to climb her way to the National Championship with her colorguard troupe  
> Nina Zenik pursues fashion design and theater while butting heads with the hockey jock  
> Matthias Helvar, meanwhile, aspires to get the hockey team to play-offs once he’s appointed as captain  
> Jesper Fahey hopes to excel in drumline, though finds himself distracted by the new flautist of the band room  
> Wylan Hendriks works on receiving a full-fledged scholarship at an art school while avoiding his father, the dean  
> Kuwei Yul-Bo stumbles into the most ragtag group of kids on campus and wonders if he’ll ever actually fit in  
> All of them have to rely on each other to get through what appears will be their most difficult academic year yet - even during the times they’d rather strangle one another.
> 
> This chapter may seem a bit rushed. I apologize in advance.

**17 August 2016**

**Nina**

    Nina hissed as she twisted the curling iron too close to her ear, sensing the heat before she let it burn her skin. “I hate this,” she mumbled.

    “Huh?” Inej was leaning over the counter so much her tiptoes barely brushed the tiled floor of the bathroom. Her reflection stared back at her in the mirror as she winged her liner extending from the corner of her eye.

    “It’s 2016.” Nina released the curler and took up another lock of long brown hair. “Shouldn’t women have something, I don’t know,  _ less dangerous _ just to get some volume?”

    “Beauty is pain,” said Inej. She kept her eyes half-closed to allow the liner to dry. “Do my wings look even?”

    “Sharp as knives, honey.”

    “You didn’t even look.”

    Nina released the curler again and pointed to it with a cherry-red fingernail. “If I did, my ear would look like a burnt piece of bacon.”

    Inej snorted. “Lovely image.”

    Snickering, Nina shook out her hair and unplugged the curling iron. She took up the can of hairspray and spritzed her locks, shielding her face with the other hand. “I still can’t believe he picked his way into the coffeeshop,” she said. “Is it literally impossible for him to enter someplace like a normal person rather than a half-deranged burglar?”

    “I wouldn’t expect less from him.” Inej ran her hand down the tightly-woven braid running down the length of her back. Not a single strand of dark hair was out of place. Her braids were always works of art Nina envied to replicate, but she could never get it quite right. “It  _ is _ Kaz, after all.”

    “I might be sick to have to deal with him one more year. I almost feel bad for you, being in the same graduating class as him.” Nina pondered for a moment. “That is, unless he’s expelled first.”

    “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

    Nina narrowed her eyes at Inej’s reflection. “For his sake? Or yours?”

    Inej pinched Nina’s arm then plucked up her tube of mascara. “C’mon, let’s head out. I’ll finish up in the car.”

    “I’ll make sure to hit a speedbump so you smudge.”

    “Now you sound like Jesper.”

#

    Nina indeed hit a speedbump outside the entrance of the school, though not intentional, and by then Inej’s mascara was as dry as the summer heat that took their breath like the suction of a vacuum the moment they stepped out the car. “See,” said Nina, “school should never start until we can actually breathe the air rather than suffocate because of it.”

    Inej slung her backpack over her shoulder and stepped onto the curb. “It could be worse. It could be hailing.”

    “I’d welcome that any day over humidity. Speaking of, how’s my hair looking?”

    “Gorgeous as ever.”

    The girls spun. At the curbside, precariously balancing himself on his tiptoes with a buffalo plaid backpack strapped to his back, was Jesper flashing his trademark pearly-white grin. Nina squealed and enveloped him in a hug. “I haven’t seen you in weeks!”

    Jesper released her and embraced Inej, too. “I know, I know, blame my old man. He’s the one with all the rules and regulations about the ranch, not me.”

    “You could’ve called us to drive up and help out.”

    Jesper’s smile slackened. “If only you’d made the offer a tiny bit earlier. You know. Before the first day of school.”

    Nina smacked his shoulder before he could dodge free of her aim.

    Inej led the way through the front gates of Ketterdam High and past the administration building. Nina and Jesper followed, each with their schedules in hand and peering at one another’s. “I didn’t know you decided to take drama,” said Nina.

    “C’mon, this face deserves some time in the spotlight,” said Jesper, running a finger from his cheekbone to the corner of his jaw.

    “You realize you’ll have to wear makeup for performances.”

    “As long as it’s you doing it, I shall have not one complaint.”

    Nina beamed and looped arms with him. “I missed you, Fahey.”

    The trio arrived at the 700 building, where Inej’s first period class, English 11, stood waiting with the door ajar. Beside it, standing in front of the flowerbed, was Kaz Rietveld, listening to music from his phone and tapping his cane against the toe of his boot. He wore a wool coat snug across his shoulders. Nina almost died from heatstroke just looking at him fully clothed.

    “Kaz!” yelled Jesper.

    Unfazed, he tugged an earbud out and leveled his gaze at Jesper.

    “It’s over a hundred degrees outside.” Jesper paused. “That’s like, 30-something degrees Celsius.”

    “Your point?”

    “Are you insane?”

    “Classrooms are cold,” said Kaz matter-of-factly.

    Jesper turned to the girls and flung an exasperated hand in Kaz’s direction. “I thought I missed the bastard this summer, until he reminded me why I didn’t.”

    “Lie,” countered Kaz.

    “Shut up, I didn’t ask you.”

    Kaz opened his mouth to retort when the bell rang, echoing all throughout campus.

    “And thus, doomsday begins,” announced Nina.

    “Hm.” Kaz cocked a brow at her, and then at Inej. “And you say  _ I’m  _ one for drama. Zenik’s taken that trophy.”

    “Should I be ashamed?” said Nina, planting her hands on her hips.

    Kaz stared at her for only a moment before shrugging and heading inside the classroom.

    “I am so sorry you have first period with him.” Jesper turned to Inej with a smirk that was half-apologetic, half-mocking.

    “Oh, please, I can handle Kaz. If last year was no trouble, then this year will be a walk in the park.” Inej waved, fingers twiddling, and she went inside.

    Nina and Jesper practically skipped across campus to reach the 300 building of the Performing Arts department, hoisting themselves up the steps of the outdoor stadium and through a side door to the auditorium. It was built like a theatre, with a grand stage paneled with oak and numerous rows of rich-red seats. Above that was the catwalk, complete with a soundboard, mics, speakers, and stage lighting equipment.

    Nina loved the little theatre, though she loved the secrets of the backstage even more, where the department had set up a greenroom, dressing rooms, a fly system, and even a storage room with sewing apparatuses and closets full of costumes. As a sophomore and junior, Nina had taken drama simply to immerse herself in fashion design and makeup. The previous director of the drama class had given Nina plenty praise, but she’d been too preoccupied with directing and producing the performances themselves to really pay her any attention, but she didn’t mind. She knew she was a valuable asset to the program. She knew she was appreciated.

    Though she did wish more of her classmates would express their gratitude. She wondered once if they were simply avoiding her.  _ “Maybe they’re intimidated by you,”  _ Inej had said.

_     “I don’t bite.” _

_     “Of course, not. You just have a big personality. Tends to scare people.” _

_     “Yet you’re not afraid of me.” _

_     “You’re also not Van Houden.” _

    Nina and Jesper slipped through a door behind the catwalk, right into a little classroom with black-topped tables and stacks of sketch paper sitting in the midst of them. They exchanged confused glances. Nina’s stomach did a somersault at the thought they’d made a freshman’s mistake. “Are we in the wrong room?”

    Jesper looked to the front of the room and deflated with relief. Nina turned to see a little woman with coppery-red hair writing on the whiteboard. It was divided into three segments, each with a different heading:  _ DRAMA, BEGINNER’S ART, ADVANCED ART. _

    “Hey, maybe she’ll like your fashion sketches!” whispered Jesper, shaking Nina gently by the shoulders.

    The woman paused, reviewing her own calligraphy, before placing  _ Ms. Hendriks _ in the upper left corner of the board. Her hand trembled slightly as she lowered her hand, capped the marker, and set it in the tray.

    Nina and Jesper took their seats at one of the tables in the back, huddling together as their classmates swarmed in around them in flocks, babbling like monkeys. Jesper’s leg started to bounce, his knee bumping Nina’s. She rested a hand on his arm. 

    The bell rang again. Ms. Hendriks rubbed her hands against the front of her jeans and faced the class with a shy smile. Her eyes were a somber, watery blue that shone behind her thin-framed glasses. “Well, it  _ is  _ a morning, but I doubt it’s a good one for any of us, so I’ll save you the trouble of pretending.” A couple students snickered, and her smile grew. “I realize several of you had Ms. Darnel before she transferred out of state, and her process may differ from mine, but I plan to retain some of her traditions to ensure your comfort here. Truly, my expertise lies with the visual art form, but I do enjoy theatre and the talent of human expression involved. Which means I'll need assistance with the techy stuff, it’s all lost on me.”

    “If only Kaz were here,” muttered Jesper.

    “Thank God, he isn’t,” whispered Nina.

    Jesper stuck his tongue out at her.

    “I thought for our first day, I could get to know you all, so.” Ms. Hendriks came over to an empty seat and sat up on the table. She patted the space beside her. “Get up.”

    Jesper was the first to hop over the table and plop himself down on the surface. The rest of the class clambered out of their chairs and took their places. Once Nina settled, Jesper swung an arm around her shoulders. 

    “So, here’s the plan.” Ms. Hendriks clapped her hands together. They were stained with a vibrant motley of colorful paint. “I want to know your names, what year you’re in, and why you’re interested in theatre. I'll start.” She folded her hands in her lap. “My name is Marya. Ten years a graduate of Booksplein University. And I believe all art should be appreciated - paintings, literature, animation, special effects, makeup, cinematography, and, of course, drama.” 

    Nina raised a hand. “Would fashion design be on that list?”

    “Certainly. How could I forget?” Marya nodded at Nina. “Let’s have you go next.”

    Nina raised her chin in confidence. “I’m Nina, I am a senior, and I find that putting yourself out there and owning it is an incredibly rewarding experience.”

    “Really?” Marya leaned in her direction. “Have you been involved in this program for some time?”

    “Past couple years. I’m usually confined backstage to help with costumes and makeup, but I’ve never performed before. My singing voice is terrible.”

    “Ain’t that the truth,” mumbled Jesper, then jumped when he earned a sharp pinch in his side from Nina where Marya couldn’t see.

    “Well, I wouldn’t say all roles require singing, do they?” Marya winked at her and gestured to the next student. But Nina tuned out their voices, stuck on Marya’s last words to her. She replayed the new teacher’s wink in her head over and over again. Ms. Darnel had adored Nina and her contributions to the rest of the troupe, but she never gave her any consideration for a role in either of the two plays she’d assisted in production. She’d even tried taking singing lessons during the summer before her junior year to increase her chances of landing a role onstage but came to no avail.

    Perhaps she’d finally get to leave the backstage this year. Though she certainly didn’t want to have to sing. Her singing voice  _ was  _ truly terrible.

    “Y’know, I was disappointed I wasn’t going to get to know the infamous Ms. Darnel,” said Jesper as they headed out the door at the close of first period. “But Miss Marya? Absolutely delightful!” He pondered for a moment. “She looks like someone else I’ve seen.” Then he shrugged. “It’ll come to me later.”

    Nina gazed down at her class schedule and scowled. “I’ve got English next with Nazyalensky. I swear, that woman hated me sophomore year.”

    “Could be worse. You could have physics.”

    “Luckily, I’ve met all my science requirements to graduate, so no more of that until college.” Nina started to grin until she glanced past Jesper. Her blood ran cold, and her toes tingled as a hot flash of dread washed over her like the waves of a vicious high tide. A blond boy had crossed her line of vision, immensely tall, strong-jawed with a fierce gaze - a face she hadn’t seen since she transferred schools two years ago. “Shit,” she whispered. “Shit, shit, shit, why is he here?”

    “Who?” asked Jesper.

    “I gotta go,” said Nina. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

    “Nina, wait!” cried Jesper, but Nina had already taken off. She kept the blond boy in her peripheral vision, hoping, begging, praying that he wouldn’t turn around and see her. The muscles in her legs burned by the time she’d reached her next class, she’d walked so quickly, and stumbled inside to a seat at the far back corner of the room. Ms. Nazyalensky wasn’t at her desk yet. At least that was another one-on-one conversation Nina would avoid.

    She had just tugged a fresh notebook and pen from her backpack when she sat up, looked to the door, and froze. There he was, blond and tall as a yeti. His hair had grown since the last time she’d seen him, long enough he’d pulled it back into a loose bun resting at the nape of his neck. A 5 o’clock shadow crossed his face, but his furrowed brow cast a darker one over his eyes. Yet, strangely, he was just as handsome as he was when she’d met him as a freshman. Maybe even more so.

    Matthias Helvar.

    “Nina?” he asked, dumbfounded.

    Nina’s hair hid her face as her forehead plummeted to her desk.

_     Fuck _ .

#

**Matthias**

    Matthias never thought Nina Zenik would stoop as low as the urban rathouse of a school known as Ketterdam High.  And yet, he never thought he’d have to, either.

    He’d sat as far away from her as possible, choosing the front row and a seat by the window. Ms. Nazyalensky’s first lecture had been extensive, a 20-slide powerpoint presentation covering course topics and readings throughout the first semester, but every note Matthias took was absently recorded. None of it processed in his brain - simply went in one ear and out the next. Only Nina’s image dominated his mind. He could feel her staring at him with those vibrant, unnaturally-green eyes. The sensation never faded through the whole hour.

    The roles reversed during third period in his government class. Another they shared.

    She’d seen  _ him _ this time in the doorway and let out an obnoxious groan as she went to the front. Matthias glowered at her from the back, a snarl threatening to curl his lip. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he’d growled to himself, thumping his head on the wall behind him. Again, he couldn’t have given a shit less about the preliminary lecture this period, either.

    He just about screamed when he saw her  _ again _ in fourth period math. This time, she didn’t even spare him a glance.

    Nina strode up to a boy garbed all in black who’d sat at the opposite end of the room and taken the seat behind him, having called him, “Rietveld,” only to earn a lazy flick of his hand that barely passed as a wave. Matthias glared at the both of them before catching the redheaded boy that sat in the desk beside him. His eyes must’ve blazed with anger, for the boy jerked to face the front of the class, recoiling as if he’d been burnt. Matthias focused his frown at the ceiling for the whole hour and sighed when the bell rang. Lunch was fifth period, yet his appetite evaporated as his blood boiled consistently.

    Why did it bother him so much? Their falling-out had been two years ago. Was there really any reason to still be angry with each other? Hadn’t they both grown since then?

    Matthias wasn’t sure he was ready to answer those questions.

    He’d barely abandoned the classroom when he heard someone shout, “Hey!”

    Matthias whirled. His shoulders slumped in an attempt to collapse into himself, wanting to disappear as Nina stamped towards him. “Didn’t I make it very clear I didn’t want to speak with you the last three hours?” he snapped.

    She pointed a finger at him, lips pursed. “Do not use that tone with me, you big ol’ idiot. After all these years, you haven’t matured one bit, have you?”

    “Really? Says the girl who thinks throwing around insults will better her position.” Matthias folded his huge arms. “What do you want?”

    “Why the hell are you here? I thought being a wolf jock for the hockey team over at Holm was paradise for you.”

    Matthias began to retort, but then he hesitated. It wasn’t any of her business what he did and didn’t do. Nevertheless, he found himself saying, “Coach Brum transferred, and he wanted me with him.”

    “Brum? Jarl fucking Brum?”

    “It’s not like you’ll ever have to deal with him.”

    Nina ran a hand across her brow. “My last year was supposed to be great. The best year of them all. But instead, I get stuck with you and that brute of a man.”

    “Who are you calling a brute? You ran me over with your car at the end of freshman year.” exclaimed Matthias.

    “You were being a total dick. You deserved it.”

    “ _ You broke my leg _ .”

    “It was my first time behind the wheel, gimme a break.”

    Matthias groaned and smacked a hand to his forehead. “Yeah. No. I’m not doing this.” He turned on his heel.

    “Fine with me, Helvar,” said Nina. “I hope you trip and break an ankle at hockey practice.”

    “Hockey season isn’t until the middle of September.”

    Nina feigned interest. “Oh, really? The middle of September? By the way, did you know I don’t care?”

    “Good-bye, Nina.” Matthias kept walking.

    He heard her stomp her foot one last time before he turned the corner to the locker hall.


	3. TMD Ch. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dregs spend lunch out on the roof when they see a fight happen in the quad. Kaz intervenes and is sent to the office, where he meets the dean, Jan Van Eck, for the first time.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING // homophobia & violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late update! It's been a hard couple weeks, but I promise to get back on track as soon as possible.

**19 August 2016**

**Jesper**

    “Why the hell are we meeting up here still?” Jesper was out of breath by the time he scrambled his way up the 700 building, where the rest of the gang - Inej, Nina, and Kaz - were lounging on the rooftop. He swiped the back of his hand across his sweaty brow. “It feels like we’re sitting in the bowels of Satan.”

    “Get used to it,” grumbled Kaz. He’d shed his coat, pinned by his cane lying beside him, and the sleeves of his button-down were rolled to his elbows. And yet, he hadn’t abandoned his gloves.

    “I like the view,” said Inej, gesturing to the quad below.

    Jesper looked. Thousands of students milled about the stone paths, carrying lunch trays and textbooks. Squads of kids camped out under trees, basking in the shade rather than the oppressive sunlight (not that he blamed them). A group of boys took the wide, grassy clearing near the outside stage of the 300 building, throwing a football among them and tackling one another when neither administrator nor teacher was watching. Hundreds of students more holed up in classrooms and the cafeteria.

    “Hey, we should make a bet,” piped Nina. She popped a strawberry into her mouth. “How many days until this year’s first fight?”

    “Last year it was the very first day.” Kaz didn’t look up from his phone, where he was punching in numbers in rapid fashion. Jesper wondered if he’d already been paid to hack into another social media account or if he was attempting the school’s firewall again to ensure the codes hadn’t changed over the summer.

    “It didn’t happen this year,” protested Nina. “We’re three days in, and nothing’s come up. But here’s what I think’s gonna happen. It’ll happen Monday, and it’ll be two freshman boys. Say one of them looks at the other funny. Then they tumble.”

    “Yikes, Nina, I don’t like you as much when you pine for violence,” teased Jesper, snagging a strawberry from the plastic baggy in her hands before she could hold it out of reach.

    Kaz snorted. “I like her better this way.”

    “Don’t encourage the behavior,” admonished Inej.

    Jesper rolled his eyes. “Has that dickhead finally pushed you to the edge?” He pondered for a moment. “What was his name, Matthew? Marty?”

    “Matthias Helvar.” Nina scowled. “He pushed me to the edge long ago.”

    “Wasn’t he the guy you hit with your car?” asked Inej.

    “Why is this the first time I’m hearing of this?” Kaz looked disappointed.

    “I second that,” said Jesper.

    Nina groaned. “ _ Yes _ , I hit him. I was a freshman girl. My emotions were all over the place. I’m pretty sure I’d rewatched  _ the Lion King _ the night before and my hatred for Scar passed over to my hatred for that blond wanna-be Calvin Klein model who couldn’t land a gig.”

    “I thought his name was Matthias Helvar,” said Kaz.

    “Damn, I was gonna say the same thing.” Jesper couldn’t help laughing all the same.

    “Ain’t funny.” Nina ate her last strawberry and folded her arms. “I have four classes with the guy. Four. Fucking. Classes.”

    “Y’know that fight you want to bet on?” Kaz still stared at his phone. “I bet twenty bucks it’ll be you and Helvar, not a couple freshmen.”

    “What happened between the two of you?” Jesper started bouncing his leg, curiosity overwhelming his entire being. “Did you guys date and then he cheated on you? Did he pull your hair and call you names? Did you pull  _ his  _ hair and call  _ him  _ names and so he got you expelled? Spill the tea, Nina, I’m thirsty for it.”

    “Okay, okay.” Nina waved at him to shut up. “We were friends.”

    “They were friends,” echoed Jesper, leaning forward in interest. He caught Kaz biting the inside of his lip to keep from grinning.

    “And he was apart of the hockey team.”

    Jesper gasped. “He was apart of the hockey team.”

    Now Kaz  _ was _ grinning. Inej glowered at him. He purposefully ignored it.

    Nina continued, “And his coach didn’t like me because I took up his time.”

    “And his coach didn’t like you because…” Jesper paused. “What?”

    “He said I was a distraction.” Nina picked at a loose thread of her shorts, her brow furrowed in a subtle anger. “I guess Matthias agreed.”

    Kaz was no longer smiling.

    Jesper’s jaw dropped. He knew Nina loved her friends more than anything. He could only imagine how much it gutted her for one of them to refer to her as such so carelessly. “Oh, Nina,” he whispered.

    Inej threw an arm around her shoulders in a sort of half hug. “Men are trash,” she said.

    “No shit,” said Kaz. This time, he met Inej’s gaze.

    Jesper scowled. If he ever met this Matthias or Matthew or Marty, he’d teach the son of a bitch a lesson or two.

    “Enough about me.” Nina waved her hands as if to dismiss Helvar’s ghost from the conversation. A mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “How’s that Wylan kid, Jes?”

    Jesper echoed her grin. After meeting the little junior that Tuesday afternoon, his image had plastered itself to the forefront of Jesper’s mind, as if someone had duct-taped it there. The wide blue eyes and the pouty lips. The messy head of ruddy curls and the dusting of freckles that stood out stark as constellations from his pale skin. The way he’d clumsily stumbled over the curb and fell into Jesper’s arms. He hadn’t stopped thinking about him since.

    And the fact they shared two classes made it even better.

    Third period, they sat in the same English class, Wylan’s desk diagonal to Jesper’s. On Wednesday, Jesper had arrived a minute late - he’d been distracted by a cloud that barely resembled a red play wagon he’d had as a kid - and he’d almost laughed when Wylan turned and froze in recognition. He kept glancing back at him over his shoulder as the hour ticked by, so much Jesper had lost count of how many times he did it. He’d never paused long enough for Jesper to risk a wink back at him.

    When they’d seen each other again for seventh period band practice, Wylan had been playing a simple tune on the flute to warm up. Jesper couldn’t resist blowing him a kiss, and Wylan’s face had turned as red as cooked lobster. His finger had closed on the wrong key to produce a horrendously dissonant chord that made the whole class jump. Jesper would’ve felt guilty if he hadn’t been laughing so hard.

    “Hey, leave me alone!”

    Jerked from his thoughts, Jesper glanced down in the quad area just as Inej scrambled to the edge to look. Kaz and Nina followed suit. “Well, Zenik,” said Kaz, “I owe you a Hamilton.”

    Down below, a fight ensued.

#

**Kuwei**

    He never expected his day to turn to this.

    “C’mon, what’s the matter, you little faggot? Cat got your tongue?”

     Kuwei huddled against the tree, his heart pounding against his ribs. Nope. He certainly didn’t expect this. He’d been minding his own business, hurrying to his locker all the way across campus to relieve himself of the extra weight of textbooks he wouldn’t need the rest of the day. The boys in front of him - juniors, most likely - had swooped down on him like a throng of hawks, snagging him by his backpack and shoving him around until he escaped their clutches. They’d ripped off one of his favorite badges. The little rainbow pride flag, the one his mother had given him after he’d come out, now lay crumpled in the space separating him from the three boys. And that gap was closing.

    “Ketterdam ain’t no place for the likes of you,” jeered one of the boys. “Sick in the head, is all you are.”

    “Leave me alone!” cried Kuwei. He whimpered in regret when the second boy snatched him by the collar of his shirt.

    “Queers like you deserve a good ass-kicking to set you straight,” he snarled.

    The third boy cackled. “Set him straight, alright.”

    Kuwei struggled against his grip, his fingers clawing at the other boy’s hand. Hot tears pooled at the corners of his eyes.

    “Aw, quit being such a pussy.” The boy’s breath smelled of rotten mayonnaise. “Consider this your own special form of conversion therapy.”

    Screaming in disgust, Kuwei drew up his knee and rammed it between the boy’s legs. The boy wheezed and released his shirt, doubling over in pain. Aiming for the breach he’d created, Kuwei tried to dart past the other two when one of them grabbed him by the back of his neck and slammed him facefirst into the tree. The bark scraped his cheek. The boy pressed up against him. His heart lurched into his throat.

    “Little motherfucker,” he hissed. Hot breath condensed onto Kuwei’s ear. He let out a sob.

_     Thwack. _

    “Shit!” The boy let Kuwei go. Kuwei scrambled out of reach and spun to see his assailant kneeling on the ground. The tip of a cane was posed at the space between his eyes. At the head of the cane was a crow’s beak, held in a gloved hand that belonged to a boy garbed all in black despite the summer heat. Behind him were two girls and another boy. Together, they made quite the motley crew.

    “You broke my fucking ankle!”

    “I sprained it,” said the boy in black. Kuwei flinched at the rough burn of his voice. “Now give me a good reason not to crack your skull.”

    “Uh, prison?” prompted the boy behind him. He had rich brown skin, gray eyes, and a baseball cap of a lime green shade so obnoxious it made Kuwei blink twice.

    “What’s up with you guys, picking on this kid?” snapped one of the girls, a gorgeous, chubby young woman with luxuriously glossy brown hair.

    The other girl - short, lanky, with black hair tied into a neat braid that swung to the small of her back - said nothing, though her gaze was fierce.

    The boy in black glanced at the ground, where the pride badge lay misshapen. He knelt down, plucked it up, and examined it. He narrowed his sharklike gaze at the boy before him, passing the badge to the chubby girl behind him.

    “C’mon, Kaz, we were just teasing him.” The boy laughed nervously.

    Kuwei’s eyes flickered from the boy named Kaz to his posse. He couldn’t believe his luck. They’d practically rescued him. But why? Who were these people, anyway?

    “You call throttling somebody  _ teasing  _ them?” barked the gray-eyed boy. “Fuck you, man. That’s bullshit.”

    “I didn’t ask you, Fahey,” the boy bit back.

    Kaz clicked his tongue and touched the end of his cane to the boy’s forehead. The color drained from his face. “Now, now,” said Kaz. “You better play nice. Or else I’ll really break your ankle.”

    Behind them, someone blew a whistle.

    Kuwei whirled. A security guard, dressed in school colors, approached at a quick pace. The other three of Kaz’s posse shifted to stand by Kuwei, blocking the other boys’ path. The young man at the other end of Kaz’s cane scurried away, lower lip quivering. Kaz looked over his shoulder at the guard but otherwise did not move. “Problem, officer?”

    The guard groaned. “You already?”

    “Good afternoon to you, too.”

    Kuwei clenched his jaw so hard it ached. Was this kid so ballsy as to actually talk back to a security guard? Kuwei might’ve been new to Ketterdam High, but surely the students here weren’t that senseless.

    “Can’t escape trouble, now, can you, Rietveld?”

    Kaz stood and shifted some of his weight to the support of his cane. “What of it?”

    “You know the consequences of engaging in a fight.”

    Kaz rolled his eyes, and Kuwei felt a pang of second-hand terror. “Right. You’re going to take me to the dean. He’ll smack my hand and tell me no. Then we go back to the way things were.”

    “Watch your mouth, kid.”

    “I don’t think I can move my eyes quite in that fashion.”

    “Kaz, don’t antagonize the man.” The girl with the braid shook her head.

    Kuwei had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. This Kaz guy was something else. He didn’t understand why he intervened or if he had something to gain from it. But he hoped he wouldn’t be expelled. He had to thank him sometime. A sense of familiarity tickled the back of Kuwei’s mind as he stared at the boy in black.

    Finally, Kaz relented and started after the security guard toward the administration office, several paces slower than him. Before he was out of reach, he turned and called, “Nina, keep an eye on the kid.” Then he quickened his crooked gait.

    A hand brushed his shoulder.  He yelped. “Take it easy,” murmured the chubby girl. Nina, he presumed. She offered him his rainbow badge. “By the way, you’re not alone.”

    Kuwei laughed, the tension in his vocal chords sending it up a pitch. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

    “Don’t say anything.” She smiled a tender smile and then, licking her thumb, dabbed at his cheek. “Poor thing. You’ve got a little cut. Oh well. You’re gonna be okay. What’s your name, hon?”

    “Kuwei,” he blurted. He touched his cheek gingerly. “I-I’m a sophomore.”

    “Aw, how adorable.” The tall, brown-skinned boy flashed a dazzling grin. “Sophomores. Cute as freshmen, yet not nearly as insufferable.”

    A blush creeped up Kuwei’s neck.

    “I’m Nina,” said Nina. “I’m a senior. And as long as you stick by me, nobody’s gonna try and mess with you again. Got any friends?”

    “No.”

    “Sure you do.” She looped her arm with his and pressed the rainbow badge into his palm. She closed his fingers tight over the little flag, gentle yet firm. “You got me.”

#

**Kaz**

    Jordie was going to kill him.

    Kaz sat in a chair just outside the dean’s office, resting his chin on where his fingers interlaced over the handle of his cane. The security guard had mentioned the dean was out about campus, and that Kaz would have to wait until he returned to conduct business concerning his punishment. Frankly, Kaz couldn’t care less. He should’ve been worried - often, fights result in expulsion - but he was simply annoyed with himself.

    He knew exactly why he did it, saving that kid. For several reasons, in fact. He’d recognized the kid from the subway, when Kaz had shot him down when he’d offered him his seat. But it was doubful he intervened simply because he’d seen him elsewhere. If anything, he knew what it was like, being ganged up on with no proficieny in self-defense. When he and Jordie had first moved into the Emerald Palace, one of Rollins’ men caught Kaz outside the building one day, reeking of alcohol, and beat him until he gave up all the cash he’d managed to swindle. He’d barely been fifteen years old, and that experience was one of many that went into the hardening of his armor. But that boy in the quad was as helpless as a lamb at the mercy of a pack of wolves here in Ketterdam High. He couldn’t possibly fend for himself. 

    Not that Kaz hadn’t hesitated. He’d only moved when Inej had.

    Kaz groaned and slumped back in his seat, eyes closed. A headache started to throb behind his right eye. If he had to wait one minute longer, he’d leave and never bother coming back regardless of whether he’d actually been expelled.

    “Ahem.”

    One of his eyes popped open. A lean man, dressed as if he was an accountant for some big corporation, stood in the threshold of the dean’s office. A ruby emblem was pinned to an immaculate black tie woven about his neck. “Mr. Rietveld?” he said. The derision in his tone was obvious.

    Kaz sized up the man with a sweeping gaze. “Yeah?”

    “I’m Mr. Van Eck. Mind joining me inside?” He gestured to the doorway.

    Kaz didn’t move. He knew the school had renovated the administration staff quite thoroughly, but he hadn’t expected them to replace the dean, especially when that replacement looked as if he belonged to an ivy league school board, what with that pin in his tie. But he knew Van Eck had been an economics teacher beforehand - a teacher he hadn’t heard much good or bad. The man was a complete mystery, Kaz hated to admit. He had half a mind to snag his pin and run off, but he preferred the challenge of not getting caught. He’d already started formulating his plan as he finally rose to his feet and limped into the office.

    “Please, sit.” Van Eck shut the door and took his place behind his desk. He stared at Kaz expectantly. Kaz only stared back. “Alright, never mind,” said the dean.

    Kaz felt a twinge of satisfaction in the aggravation permeating through the man’s voice. “Let’s just get this over with. I haven’t got all day.”

    “Of course, you don’t. You still have two classes to attend.”

    Kaz blinked.

    “I’m not going to expel you,” said Van Eck, though he continued to address him with a high level of disdain. “I’ve heard all about you this summer from other staff members. Hacking through the school firewall. Changing grades. Stealing answer keys and selling them for profit. And, I have to say, how you scrape by without landing into too much trouble is beyond me, given your reputation. Yet for all I know, the staff could be spreading rumors.”

    “I doubt you believe that.”

    “I don’t,” he conceded. “Your actions in the quad prove my suspicions about you.”

    “If anything, what I did back there was good samaritan work,” said Kaz. “That kid would’ve gone home with a couple black eyes if it wasn’t for me.”

    “Well, now a kid is going home with a broken ankle because of you.”

    “Am I supposed to apologize? Am I supposed to shake his hand and make up?” Kaz drummed his fingers along the beak of his cane. “Look, if you don’t plan to kick me out of the school, will you just give me a suspension or detention and let me go?”

    “Actually.” Van Eck folded his hands neatly atop his desk. “I wanted to strike a deal with you.”

    Kaz said nothing.

    Van Eck smiled. “Good, you’re listening.” Rolling his chair back, he opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a pen and a Post-It note and started scribbling. “I want you to do something for me.”

    Kaz scoffed. “Excuse me?”

    “There’s a new student at this school. And, according to the academy he transferred from, he’s similar to the likes of you. Troublemaker. Doesn’t follow along in class. Doesn’t do his homework. And God knows what else off-campus.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust as if he smelled something rank. “Given his horrendous tendencies, I’d feel more secure if I could keep an eye on him throughout the school year. Ensure he never steps out of line.”

    “And you want me to be your spider,” said Kaz.

    Van Eck nodded. “Though I wouldn’t recommend getting too close with him, the worthless brat.”

    Kaz cocked a brow. This wasn’t some ordinary delinquent simply causing the dean a little grief. No, not at all. If he wasn’t mistaken, this sounded touchy - too touchy. This sounded personal. “What makes you think I want in on your drama with another student?”

    “Because I’ll wager you’d like the payment.”

    “Payment?”

    “Let’s say 50 bucks a week. I’ll give you the student’s contact information so you can track him online. I’ll also need you to run some correspondence to him on my part. Code any e-mails I might need to send out so it won’t be traced back to me. After all, I’ve got a job at stake.”

    Kaz ‘s grip tightened on his cane. Of all the people he’d thought he’d have to strike a deal with, he’d never expected a school administrator. Nor would he ever  _ want  _ to. The very thought of working this closely to someone who could just as easily send his entire future down the drain was quite a risk he wasn’t really willing to take. Yet, at the same time, he’d be paid. Weekly. He could finally help pay off his and Jordie’s debts. Catch up on rent. Clear the interest from their electricity, gas, and water bills. Maybe get a couple pairs of socks that didn’t have holes in the heels. Perhaps a nice pair of gloves for the both of them as well. There was a good chance he could finally free them from under Rollins’ thumb.

    And only if he agreed to stalk some stupid kid online and send him a couple notices of warning. But it still a dicey game to play.

    “A hundred a week,” said Kaz.

    Van Eck barked a humorless laugh. “Not a chance.”

    “I’m not working for less.”

    “I won’t haggle with you, Rietveld.”

    “I said a hundred a week,” snarled Kaz, “or I’ll take the expulsion.”

    Van Eck squinted at Kaz. Kaz didn’t falter for a single second, his jaw set in stubborn pride. He knew it was a matter of two extremes. He didn’t care.

    “Alright.” Van Eck sighed in annoyance. “However, if you muck this up -”

    “Yeah, yeah, save me your lectures. Who's the student?”

    Van Eck plucked the Post-It from his desk and handed it to Kaz. “Wylan Hendriks.” He said the name as if it was blasphemy.

    “Sounds frightening.” Kaz glimpsed the content of the note - a couple e-mail addresses and phone numbers - and pocketed it. “I’ll make sure to tell an adult if he calls me mean names.”

    “You have quite an attitude, Mr. Rietveld. I advise you keep it in check.”

    “I respectfully decline that advice,” said Kaz as he turned to leave. “It it weren’t for my attitude, I’d be seen as nothing but a pathetic cripple. And I don’t like pity.”


	4. TMD Ch. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inej meets Wylan during art class. Wylan shares a meaningful conversation with his mother, Marya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Hoede is the band director, I couldn't think of anyone else to fit the position. Also, I don't really know how classes for band work. I'm going off of my experience with a guitar class. I apologize for any inaccuracies. Thanks for reading!

**22 August 2016**

**Inej**

“Today,” announced Ms. Hendriks, “we’ll be starting our first project.”

Inej gazed at the little woman at the front of the classroom, her elbow propped on the table, chin balanced on her fist. It was a dreary Monday afternoon, and the students all trudged like limping zombies to their classes during passing periods simply because the weekend hadn’t been the break they needed. Even Inej’s eyelids tended to droop, and she’d slept in extensively. An art project was not the pick-me-up she had in mind, but surely it would allow her mind to meditate for a while. Especially after such a horrendous morning.

Second period was colorguard practice for all members, regardless of what year they were in. As a junior, Inej was eligible to be an assistant coach - she’d made varisty as a sophomore - but Coach Van Houden wouldn’t allow it. The woman hated Inej,  _ loathed _ her ever since the day she first enrolled as a freshman. She’d been a scrawny little thing yet full of promise, but she hadn’t known anyone else there, having come not just to a new school but a new city altogether. She’d been the outsider. And Van Houden’s favorite, Dunyasha Lazareva, currently a senior, never failed to remind her of that.

Just that day, while practicing with the sabres, Dunyasha had fallen out of sync with the rest of the group. Her sabre cracked across Inej’s knuckles, forcing her to drop her own and, ultimately, ruining the entire routine. Van Houden had blamed Inej for disrupting practice and commanded her to sit out the rest of the hour. It’d left her with a nasty, sticky feeling, perpetuated by Dunyasha’s devilish smirk she’d cast her way in between routines. Inej did not give her the satisfaction of victory - every time she looked her way, she stared her down just as fiercely.

From the other end of the art room, Inej caught Nina waving at her out of the corner of her eye. Her red-stained lips were twisted into a frown, and she mouthed the question, “What’s wrong?” Inej lifted a hand as means of telling her to wait, pulled her phone from her pocket, and sent a quick text.

_ Tell you later. Coffee after school? _

Nina glanced down at her phone and only looked back up at Inej after sending her response.

_ For sure. Always here for you. _

Inej beamed at her screen before locking it.

“Okay,” said Ms. Hendriks, drawing a folder from her podium. “Today, I only want you guys to sketch the first part of the project. As the week progresses, I’ll be teaching you basic techniques, such as referencing, coloring, shading, and all that jazz. It shouldn’t be too difficult, since the subject you’ll be referencing is rather simple.” She flipped open the folder and drew out five stacks of paper-clipped photographs. “We’ll be sketching flowers.”

Inej squinted at the photos. The top stack featured a basic red rose and, behind that, she glimpsed the petals of what appeared to be an orchid.

“If you don’t like the one I pass to you, you can always trade with someone else,” said Ms. Hendriks, starting her way around the room and placing a photograph in front of each student. “Sometimes roses aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”

The red-headed boy beside Inej chuckled. When Ms. Hendriks reached her, she offered her a kind smile and handed her a photo. Inej smiled back as best as her sour mood would allow and viewed the photo. A bittersweet feeling washed over her.

The photo depicted a vibrant pink geranium, the central veins of the petals a much darker shade than the edges. It was her mother’s favorite flower, according to her father. He’d told her she’d loved how no other flower had quite the same color, and Inej had seen her often go into their garden and pluck one of the blossoms to tuck behind her ear. Every summer she'd do that, during their vacation from traveling and performing all across the country. It was as if she'd been welcoming herself home.

This last summer was the first her parents didn’t come home. Inej knew why. Extra money was needed in the next couple years if she was to apply to get into college and extend her education. But she hated the idea that she’d see them even less than she already did.

Once Ms. Hendriks had passed out small sheets of paper, Inej plucked up a pencil and attempted to draw the petals as true to the photo as she could muster. She kept erasing and sketching the same lines over and over again, struggling to get the proportions of the petals just right in contrast to one another. Ten minutes later, she’d sketched about half the blossom, but she was only satisfied with two of the petals. The others looked shriveled up, the curves too short, the veins too thick. She exhaled sharply through her nose. Hopefully, Ms. Hendriks wouldn’t be too hard on her for her mediocre artistic skill.

Leaning back in her chair, Inej looked to the side and paused. The red-headed boy next to her was leaning so far forward the tip of his nose nearly brushed his paper, looking up almost every few seconds to glance at his photograph - a lily - before returning to his sketch. At one point, he lifted up just enough for Inej to see his sketch. Her mouth hung open slightly.

It was a very light sketch, as if he’d barely put the tip of his pencil to the paper at all. But the shapes of the flower were apparent, the proportions close to perfection. She watched him sketch in the spindly filaments that sprouted from the center of the petals, pencil in the stamen, define the details within the petal, stop, set his pencil down…

He was looking right at her.

“Sorry,” said Inej quickly. “I was working on mine and looked over at yours and got carried away. You’re very talented.”

The boy blushed and smiled sheepishly. “Thanks. And don’t be sorry. It’s not like you’ve offended me or anything.” After a moment’s silence, he held out a lead-smudged hand to her. “I’m Wylan. Ms. Hendriks’s son.”

“Of course, you are.” Inej took his hand and shook it. “I’m Inej. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

They grinned at each other and went back to their sketches. Inej had just picked up her pencil when she noticed her phone screen flash with a new text message. She picked it up. It was from Nina.

_ Kaz would be sooooo jealous. _

Inej rolled her eyes and replied.

_ As if. _

#

**Wylan**

“Hey, stranger.”

Wylan looked up from combining the joints of his flute. Jesper Fahey stood over the top of him, drumsticks tucked beneath his arm, grinning from ear to ear. Wylan stared a moment at his outfit, complete with a lemon-yellow plaid button-down and black cargo shorts, before commenting dryly, “You dress worse than Elton John.”

Jesper smacked a hand to his chest as if he’d been shot. “Ooh. That hurt.” He knelt down beside him and tapped the silver instrument keys of Wylan's flute. “It all looks so complex," he whispered in feigned amazement. Then, more seriously, he asked, "How long have you been playing?”

Wylan looked back to his flute and set the mouthpiece. “Seven, eight years. Something like that.”

“Really? Perhaps you could serenade me sometime.” Jesper wiggled his brows and nudged him with a gentle elbow.

Without looking up, Wylan pointed to where Jesper’s set of tenor drums were balanced in his chair. “Get out.”

“Out of where?”

“My bubble.”

“Technically, it’s already burst.”

“Do not logic your way out of this.”

Jesper chuckled with fiendish mischief and practically skipped back to his seat. Wylan shifted his shoulder slightly to hide the smile breaking out over his face. Ever since the first day of school, Jesper would pop over to where he sat, always with something new to say, always with that same dorky grin. And every day since, Wylan looked more and more forward to each interaction. Of course, they already shared another class together - third period English - but Nazyalensky was strict as hell regarding her “no-talking” policy. It didn’t stop them from looking at each other every now and then. Jesper often made funny faces when she wasn’t looking.

As Wylan set up his music stand, the band director, Mr. Hoede, came out from his office and stood at the front of the classroom. A single wave of his hand through the air brought all other conversation to an end, the eyes of every student locked on him. “One week in, and we’ve already got that down,” he mused. “Today is easy. I want each of you to go over the lessons from last Friday then practice from your books. Upperclassmen, remember to offer the lowerclassmen of your section some pointers in case they’re struggling. If anyone requires more intensive instruction, you know where to find me.” He finished with a clap and returned to his office.

Wylan unhitched his satchel and dug around for a thin book with a yellow label, opening it to a marked page with sheet music of his level and setting it on his stand. Across the room, the drumline students snatched up their instruments and started to head outside for the stage, where Hoede declared last week they could practice so as not to disturb the other sections. Only Jesper lingered inside, twirling one of his drumsticks among the fingers of his left hand, scrolling through his phone with his right. Wylan watched him only a moment longer before angling the flute to his lip, eyes on the sheet music, and blowing softly into the head joint.

His fingertips danced along the keys, producing a slow succession of trilling notes that swept him into the deeper parts of his mind. A sensation of tranquility enveloped him and drowned out the world outside, making him numb to the other instruments’ music and rooting him into a trance born from his own. For the entire duration of the song, Wylan forgot all his worries.

It wasn’t until he’d flipped the page to a new song that he noticed Jesper had been spectating. When their gazes met, Jesper quickly looked away, pursing his lips and returning to his phone. Wylan cocked a brow, replacing the flute to his lips.

When the bell rang, Wylan took his time in packing his things before heading out towards his mother’s classroom. For her, the day didn’t end until four o’clock. but he didn’t mind. Plenty of time to get some homework out of the way, he reasoned.

He took a seat at the table closest to Marya’s desk, where she sat with a pair of earbuds in, eyes glued to her computer. They exchanged brief smiles before he yanked out his math book, thumbed through the pages, and proceeded to occupy himself with equations.

Four o’clock came around much sooner than he’d anticipated. On their way out to the car, Marya asked, “So, how was your day?”

“Faster than most Mondays.” He popped open the trunk of the minivan and helped her haul up her mobile cart. He tossed in his flute case and backpack before shutting it closed and climbing into the passenger’s seat. “Grateful I didn’t run into you-know-who. If I can keep a running streak for the whole year, it might all turn out okay.”

Marya sat in the driver’s side and revved the engine. “That’s good,” she said, and backed out of the parking lot.

Once they were on the road, Wylan twisted the knob of the air conditioner to battle the sun’s heat beating down on the car. A smile danced on his lips. Jesper had been watching him. Sure, he tried acting all nonchalant, as if he'd barely been paying attention, but he wasn’t exactly subtle. Wylan couldn’t help feeling somewhat satisfied.

It  _ was  _ a good day.

Wylan glanced at his mother, looked to the road, then back at her in a flash. Her expression was one of unease - furrowed brow, mouth set in a hard line. It erased the smile from his own. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

Marya hesitated, checking her mirrors before changing lanes. Then she sighed. “It’s been nearly two months since we filed, and he still hasn’t signed the papers.”

Her words were a slap in the face. “He hasn’t done anything?”

“No. And it’s not like I can walk up and ask nicely, no matter how badly I might want to. I can’t. I just can’t. Not after…” She trailed off and shook her head. The tendons in her skinny hands protruded underneath her skin as she tightened her grip on the wheel. “I’m sick of the torment. I still feel like I’m under his thumb, and I’m sick of it. I don’t want this anymore. I want it to be over.”

Wylan gazed at her sorrowfully. “I understand, Mom.”

“Sweetheart, I know you do.” She reached out and took hold of his hand. “I’m so sorry you have to put up with this. It’s so unfair to you.”

“No. What would be unfair is if I left all that weight for you to shoulder on your own. I’m not letting that happen. You’re all I have, Mom, and I’m all you got, too. You’ve always been there for me. So I’m going to be there for you. And hey, it’s not like he can hurt us anymore. He has no control over your life or what you do with it.”

“I wonder if it would’ve been best to move out of the city altogether,” said Marya. “Now I’m stuck at the same place he works.”

“I don’t think we would’ve survived. Mom, you’re doing your best. Everything will be okay.”

“You think so?” whispered Marya, as she turned into their neighborhood.

Wylan squeezed her hand. “Yes. I really do.”


	5. TMD Ch. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthias thinks of Nina and has a run-in with Kaz at the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll start trying to post chapters every Friday. :)

**26 August 2016**

**Matthias**

“Down!”

Matthias dropped on all fours, did a push up, and jumped back into a jog, falling in sync with his comrades. Several pairs of boots thumped the floor in a rhythmic fashion. Everyone’s breathing grew heavier and heavier with each passing second. Matthias’s heart pounded, barely noticing the wisp of blond hair tickling his cheek that had escaped the knot he’d tied at the back of his head. Self-discipline went a long way, and that included disregarding any potential distractions.

“Down!” shouted Coach Brum again.

Every trainee hit the floor again and came up again.

Unfortunately, the image of Nina kept infiltrating Matthias’s concentration, so much to the point every command from Brum startled him out of his thoughts. Usually, the exercises like they did in JROTC relieved him of any stress plaguing him, but it became increasingly difficult to extricate Nina from his mind. Now it was the end of the second week of his senior year, and the exercises did nothing to assuage his frustration concerning her.

Every single interaction they’d shared since the first day of school was even more hostile than the last. The looks she gave him consisted only of death glares and curled lips. And it’s not like he could avoid her. They shared three classes together, as well as a lunch period, and due to some cruel joke the universe decided to play on the both of them, their lockers were right next to each other. It was only a matter of time before a screaming match ensued between them.

Coach Brum blew the whistle. Everyone slowed to a solid halt. Matthias struggled to ensure his own balance, but as one of the juniors beside him stumbled, he helped right them up. “Easy,” he huffed, more harshly than intended.

Brum’s eyes ran over the troop, mouth set in a hard line. Then, right before the bell rang, he declared, “Next week, we’ll dive deeper into the chain of command and maybe begin a simulation activity if we manage to finish the unit sooner in the week. Until then, stay safe this weekend and remember your actions reflect on the program as much as it does yourself. Good work, cadets.”

The troop dispersed. Matthias headed to the bleachers and snatched up his backpack, ready to depart when Brum called, “Helvar. A word?”

Matthias sauntered over, wondering if, somehow, Brum noticed that his focus had been disrupted, that he wasn’t all there. But Brum only beamed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You’ve done well this week, son, like you always do. It’s good to keep a cadet like you close by. I was worried you wouldn’t transfer.”

Matthias shrugged. “Not like I had a reason not to.”

“Right. Always take an opportunity when it presents itself, right? And on that note, I thought I should mention. Try-outs for the hockey team are scheduled in October sometime in the third week. I’m warning you now so you’ll be in top condition by then.”

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll make sure to put in the effort.”

“I’m not worried. I know you’ll make me proud.” Brum’s smile grew, and he patted Matthias’s back. “Go home and get some rest, but don’t slack too much.”

“Of course, sir. Have a good weekend.”

Matthias left campus soon after checking his locker, his heart a bit lighter that afternoon. And yet, Nina’s image lingered at the forefront of his mind.

He went home to his apartment several blocks away from the school. The moment he turned his key in the lock, a series of booming barks and paws slamming the door brought a laugh out of Matthias’s chest. “I know, I know, relax,” he said, squeezing through the gap of his door and shutting it closed before any of the five dogs attempted an escape. Four of them - large, beefy beasts that stood as tall as him on their hind legs - jumped up at him and pinned him to the door. The mastiff stuck his boxy face in Matthias’s and slurped at his cheeks. “Okay, okay, c’mon, let me put my stuff down,” he snickered, brushing past them all and tossing his backpack onto the sofa. Something scrabbled at his feet, and he looked down. The little furry face of a wolf-sable pomeranian stared back up at him, scratching at his legs. He knelt down and lifted him up. “Easy, Tras,” he said, rubbing behind his ears. “Can’t expend all your energy or else we can’t go for a walk.”

And so he hopped up to his feet and gathered the leashes from the closet in the tiny living room. After he’d hitched them to each of the dogs’ collars and checked his phone, Matthias then lead them out of the apartment into the hallway - the pom, to his amusement, taking the lead.

From the complex, Matthias and the dogs headed down the block, down towards Ketterdam Park barely ten minutes away from where he lived. A calm summer breeze rustled the leaves of the oak trees and tousled the loose strands of Matthias’s blond hair. He smoothed them back with a palm, gazed at the nearby pond, and sighed. He should’ve felt at peace, yet he failed still to forget about Nina for longer than a few minutes. Why the hell did he have to run into her again, of all people he’d known previously? And why did she treat him like everything was  _ his  _ fault?  _ She  _ was the one that hit him with her car and proceeded to run over his leg.  _ She  _ was the one that took offense when he’d admitted he couldn’t hang out with her as often as they’d grown accustomed to doing. It had affected his performance in school and in hockey games. He never meant to hurt her. So why couldn’t she see that?

Something tugged at Matthias’s hand, jerking him from his thoughts. The pom, Trassel, was straining against his leash, pawing and sniffing at the boot of a pale boy sitting at the park bench, an old Dell laptop balanced in his lap. “No, Tras, come on,” commanded Matthias.

The dog didn’t budge.

Shaking his head, Matthias came over and picked up the little pom. “Sorry,” he said, as the boy looked up at him. “He’s just really nosy…” He trailed off.

The boy’s eyes were black as onyx and sported clothing equally as dark. His face was a collection of sharp lines, and his hair was shaved into a gradient on either side of his head, the middle longer and swept back out of his face. A cane was tucked behind him on the bench. Matthias recognized him almost instantly, and with distaste. “You’re friends with Nina.”

“Friends is a kind term.” His voice was like harsh gravel.

“I’ve seen you walk the halls with her.”

“And I think that makes you jealous.” The boy shut the laptop closed. “Helvar, isn’t it?”

“Matthias Helvar,” he confirmed. “And I’m not jealous. Kaz, right? I think we share a class.”

“Yes, math analysis. And I think you  _ are  _ jealous. I can practically smell it on you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have addressed me the way you did.”

Matthias scowled.

Kaz’s brows shot up. “Ah. I’ve struck a nerve. By the way, is it true she broke your leg with her car? I knew she had it in her, but it’s a shame I didn’t get to see that.”

“Look, I know you’re trying to be funny, but it isn’t working in your favor.”

“Yes, because it’s your favor I want so badly in life.” Kaz rolled his eyes. “But now I’m curious. What exactly did you do to Nina for her to want to hit you with her car?”

“Not important. It’s in the past.”

“I’d argue otherwise. The past determines the future, and sometimes, it elicits a pattern. For example, you pissed off Nina, she ran you over with a Prius. And I can’t help but notice she’s been a bit livid these last few days. Next time you’re in the parking lot, you might want to watch out for that Prius.”

“Look, there’s some bad blood between us,” admitted Matthias. “But I’m under no obligation to give you any more explanation than that. If you’re so damn curious, why not ask her?”

“My leg’s already fucked up. I don’t need her busting my other one. Y’know. Like she did to you.”

“Will you please let that go?”

“Absolutely not. It brings me joy.”

Matthias took a deep breath in an attempt to tranquilize his frazzled nerves. “I’ve got to get going. Perhaps you should get back to your work.”

“Leaving so soon? Fine.” Kaz opened up his laptop again and glued his eyes to the screen. “I’ll make sure to give Nina your warmest regards.”

Matthias didn’t even protest as he started down the sidewalk again. This wasn’t exactly the start to the weekend he had in mind.


	6. TMD Ch. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While at work, Nina reflects on her feud with Matthias and meets Kuwei as a customer. On his way home, Kuwei thinks about why he and his father moved to Ketterdam and an incident that occurred that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a couple days late, but I hope it reads well. I may have rushed it a bit. Also, sorry for the angst in this one, but it only gets worse from here on out.  
> Also, I'm working on another longfic that I'll be posting once a week, along with this one. Keep an eye out for the first chapter! I'm predicting sometime this week.

**31 August 2016**

**Nina**

“Have a good afternoon,” chimed Nina in a singsong fashion, handing the customer her receipt. The girl - a sophomore she recognized from school - grinned back at her before departing from the shop back into the vast halls of Goedmedbridge Mall.

Nina sighed and rubbed her aching cheeks. “Hey, Muzzen,” she called to the burly boy stocking the shelves. “Do you mind taking the register for now? I need to move around a bit.”

“No problem,” said Muzzen, and they switched places behind the counter. “Just make sure none of the jeans have a popped hem. Already found three pairs from that box.”

Nina nodded and lifted said box from the counter, moving over to the shelves in the back. She checked to make sure each pair had appropriate price and size tags and an anti-theft device before folding them up and stowing them onto the shelves.

She’d left school early that day, after convincing Kaz at lunch to call in as a guardian and get her a hall pass. From there, she’d gone to Goedmedbridge to walk around the plaza, a few hours before her shift at  _ Buckle _ . She needed away from the classroom clutter, away from the swarms of students in the halls. She need a place to think.

Kaz had told her of his run-in with Matthias out in the park. “ _ You didn’t antagonize him, did you _ ?” asked Nina, horrified by the revelation.

He’d scoffed. “ _ Do you think so poorly of me? _ ”

“ _ Honestly? Yes _ .”

“ _ Hm. Rightly so. I may or may not have probed him about when you hit him with your car. _ ”

“ _ Fucking hell, Kaz, will you let that go? I could slap you _ .”

He’d only shrugged.

It’d left her upset all morning, and it wasn’t even about Kaz and his insufferability. She’d realized how petty this whole feud with Matthias was in the first place. Did it really make snese for her to dwell on something that transpired years ago, when she and Matthias were different people? Hadn’t they changed since then? No she hadn’t forgiven him - wouldn’t, until his stubborn ass admitted he’d wronged her as much as she did him - but was it worth it to be so angry with him she couldn’t think straight when he was near?

Something she’d learned from Inej was, sometimes, the best course of action was to let bygones be bygones. How many times had she shrugged off Van Houden’s insults, Dunyasha’s cruel, painful remarks? Inej went on with life, holding her chin up high, never giving up on herself or her aspirations. Nina’s problems barely compared.

The trick was, how would  _ she  _ let go? Ignore Matthias completely or sit down, talk it out like the two adults they’re supposed to be? It wouldn’t be that easy. Still, she’d figure itn out. Once, there was a time Matthias listened to anything she said. She hoped he still would, in spite of… well, everything.

Empty box in hand, Nina stood from the shelves and started for the storage room in the back when a vaguely familiar face wandered through the entrance. His golden-brown eyes skimmed the shop - clearly, he’d never stepped foot inside here before - before they landed on the men’s section. The styles within the shop differed vastly from his own ensemble, a tacky IZOD polo and trousers. The poor thing didn’t know what to do with himself.

It was the boy Kaz had rescued from the bullies.

He sped off towards the men’s section. Nina followed, shoving Matthias into the depths of her thoughts and racking her brain for the boy’s name. She’d found him staring at the jacket on one of the mannequins when she lightly tapped his shoulder. “Kuwei, right?”

The boy spun, a fingertip resting on his bottom lip from post-interrupted thought. It took him a second before recognition hit. “Nina.”

She smiled warmly. “I work here. Things were just starting to get boring before you walked in. Looking for a change?” Her eyes swept over his clothes.

He laughed nervously. “Sort of. I feel like a fish out of water in this city.” Kuwei then pursed his lips, sinking back into thought. “I don’t know where to start,” he murmured.

Nina trailed her eyes up and down his body again, and the light blub flickered on. “Can I help?”

Kuwei sighed in relief. “I was hoping you’d offer. Yes, please, I’ll be eternally grateful.”

“Only doing my job.” Her grin grew nonetheless. Taking him gently by the wrist, Nina led him to a rack of jackets and button-downs. Eyes darting from Kuwei to the clothing, her curiosity prompted her to ask, “So, you’re new to Ketterdam?”

“Yeah. My father had to relocate for, uh, a promotion.”

“Really?” Nina’s head perked up from the rack. “What does he do for a living?”

“Medical science. I’m pursuing something similar.”

“Y’know, Ketterdam is a dreary place. We need more compassionate people - teachers, doctors like your father. Right now it’s a swarm of gangsters and nonames. Not that I’m trying to frighten you. But, let’s just say we have a surplus of the worst and very little of the best.”

Kuwei blushed. “I’ll make sure to tell Papa.”

“Good,” piped Nina, “but before that.” She drew a white button-down shirt, a knitted cardigan, and dark blue jeans from the rack. “How’s this? It’s more of a casual taste with a refined flair. I think it’ll suit you.”

Kuwei smiled sheepishly.

#

**Kuwei**

The train rattled slightly from side to side as it hurtled through the subway. Kuwei stood, clutching one of the cool metal poles. In the other hand he had the handles of his shopping bag bunched up within his fingers. His grip did not relent.

Of all the people he’d met after moving to Ketterdam, Nina was the kindest. Whether she took pity on him - a little sophomore who never really spoke unless spoken to - or she just genuinely liked him, he didn't know. Still, it was good to know not everything in life had gone to hell.

Because even though it was clear to everyone in Ketterdam that he was new in town, with his constant wandering gaze and anxious disposition, no one had a clue how grief-stricken he was.

Three months earlier, his mother had passed away.

Her passing had taken a toll on Kuwei and his father - a hefty one. For two weeks afterward, Kuwei could barely drag himself out of bed. He didn’t sleep. His appetite was fickle. Worst of all, he was alone. His father Bo, though as mournful as his son, refused to abandon his work. “ _ I can't _ ,” he’d said.

“ _ Why not? You need time to recover. _ ”

“ _ It doesn't work that way, Kuwei. _ ”

He’d been sweet about it. Bo rarely ever took a harsh approach with his son. But Kuwei had only felt worse.

As for the move, Kuwei still didn't know how he felt. Ketterdam was not as comfortable as the suburbs in which Kuwei was raised, but he didn't mind the crowds or the noisy highway right outside his new neighborhood. He didn’t like he didn't know anyone, but maybe that would change.

Kuwei got off at his stop, keeping his head down as he raced out of the graffiti-ridden underground subway to the surface. Starting the walk home from there, his mind drifted back to that morning, back to first period. Humiliation settled in his stomach, bringing the blood rushing to his cheeks for the umpteenth time that day. Honors Chem was one of the hardest classes Kuwei was taking that year, and, as customary with most science classes, everyone had a lab partner. His was a baby-faced, redheaded junior, Wylan Hendriks, always quiet and always doodling on every single handout they received. He was a talented artist. Kuwei only wished he was as good a scientist.

That day was their first lab. They’d been working with a burner, and Wylan volunteered to perform the experiment while Kuwei read off the instructions. Eventually, he’d gotten bored with watching Wylan mess with the beakers and suggested they switch roles. He’d seemed hesitant but ultimately complied. However, Wylan took too long reading off the instructions - Kuwei wondered if he was dyslexic - but he’d ended up telling him to use the wrong chemical. It set their experiment on fire, and though Mr. Kostyk was quick to put it out, Wylan’s composure had withered into nothing. He’d sat at the desk, his face in his hands, utterly embarrassed. And though Kuwei felt bad, he hadn’t had the time to console him since they had to redo the entire lab - and it hadn’t been easy with all the other students staring at him, having finished their work by the time the fire started.

But now that Kuwei reflected on the moment, he found himself grinning like an idiot. It was one of those times that sucked in the moment but later could bring someone to tears from laughter. Kuwei doubted he was much of a storyteller, but maybe he could get his papa to smile for the first time in weeks. He checked his watch. His father was usually home around this time - maybe Kuwei could grab his attention for a few minutes.

Kuwei arrived at his house - a two-story Tudor-style home in one of the few suburban areas of Ketterdam - fifteen minutes after departing from the subway. He found his father, Bo, in the office downstairs, viewing reports that seemed to spew from the yellow portfolios resting at the corner of his desk. The dark circles under his eyes were hidden by the glare of his glasses, and he didn’t seem to notice Kuwei standing in the doorway.

“Papa?” tried Kuwei.

Bo’s head popped up like a meerkat’s. “Oh, hi,” he said, beaming through his exhaustion. “How was your day?”

“Long, but it was okay. Hey, have you had dinner yet? I was thinking, if you have time to spare…” He trailed off. Bo’s eyes flooded with an apology, one he’d already given his son many, many times since his mother’s passing. “Nevermind,” he said.

“A new city, Kuwei. And so, new patients. I have too much right now. Any disruptions and I’ll be thrown off-course. Maybe sometime this weekend? I don’t think I’ll be working.”

Kuwei pursed his lips and nodded. “Don’t stay up late,” he advised, and shut the door on his way out. He sulked on his way upstairs and into his room.

This weekend, then. He highly doubted it.


	7. TMD Ch. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesper brings Wylan to the group at lunch to introduce him to the others. Inej recounts an incident from colorguard before meeting Kaz in the library. Kaz starts his research on Wylan and gets into an argument with Jordie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DEEPLY apologize for such a late update, but I made this chapter especially long so that there's at least some meat to it. The past couple months have been painfully rough - I lost a competition, my dog died very suddenly, and there were some financial struggles - but all that has been squared away. Updates will be much sooner in between! Enjoy!
> 
> Also, check out my tumblr https://wylanvanwreck.tumblr.com/  
> I post updates to the fic, in hopes of getting new readers, and I also do some fanart of the Modern Dregs. Please follow me there for shenanigans.

**9 September 2016**

**Jesper**

“Is the ink ready?”

“Yes, Jes, for the last fucking time I’ve got it set up. Now will you turn it on so we can get this over with?”

Jesper frowned. He plucked up the little blue toy car, flipped the switch of its plastic undercarriage, and set it back down with his hand on top of it. He checked the strip of paper tied to the bumper. “Is the paper ready?”

“What did I just say?”

“That’s when I was asking about the ink.”

“Yes, the paper is ready. Yes, the ink is set. Yes, the needle’s intact.” Kaz pinched his brow and sighed. “What next, is my pencil sharpened?”

Jesper glared at Kaz. “I’d like to know. Because if you keep up this attitude, I might stick the damn thing in your eyeball.”

Kaz blinked at him, unimpressed, and flipped the switch on the motion ticker.

Jesper released the toy car. It drove itself at a steady speed, trailing the thin strip of paper behind it. The paper slid through the motion ticker, the inked needle leaving a series of dots in its wake. Once the end slipped through, Jesper raced ahead and caught the car before it could collide into the foot of a classmate. “Apologies,” he said charmingly, snapping his fingers into a cheesy gun, and came back to the lab station where Kaz was swiftly jotting down numbers in a hastily-drawn data table in his notebook, measuring the distance of the dots with a meter stick. “Make sure to take the measurements in meters.” He leaned over to get a closer look at Kaz’s work. “And you’re doing it in centimeters.”

“There’s a lovely trick known as conversion.”

“Yeah, but, like, what if you forget the conversions?”

“I won’t.”

Jesper’s mouth wrinkled at the corner in frustration, but he didn’t press. “That was our last car, right? Then we can pull up a spreadsheet and go on from there?”

“Tomorrow. We have two minutes left this period.”

“So should we finish this at lunch? Because you already know the moment I get home I ain’t doing jack shit.” Before Kaz could reply, something hit Jesper, prompting a flurry of words to roll off his tongue. “Wait, shouldn’t you have detention sometime this week?”

“Um, why?”

“Um, the fight? Jesus, Kaz, it wasn’t that long ago. Did you forget?”

“I don’t forget anything.” Kaz snapped his notebook shut. “And whether or not I get detention isn’t really any of your business.”

Jesper resisted the burning urge to slap him, the muscles in his hand relaxing only when the bell rang. They headed out of the classroom side-by-side and split in opposite directions halfway through the quad area. “You’re supposed to say bye, Kaz,” jeered Jesper. Kaz didn’t look back, flashing him the middle finger over his shoulder, snapping up like a jack-in-the-box. Jesper snorted and kept trudging along to third period. The son of a bitch was very lucky he never satisfied the temptation to slap him upside the head. Even if he did, he’d likely be more upset he’d messed up his hair than hit him, Jesper thought with a snicker.

At the bell, he plopped down in his desk in room 703 behind Wylan, who was rubbing his temples in concentric circles with his fingers, eyes clamped shut. Jesper wanted to ask what was wrong but figured it was best to leave him be. Whenever Inej had a headache, she’d kindly ask not to be bothered. It was now the route Jesper took with anyone suffering the same minor ordeal.

Ms. Nazyalensky stood from her desk, omitting any kind of class greeting as she did every morning. Instead, she swept up a stack of papers from her desk and started passing them out to each row of students. “Today, we’ll be going over a criticism of  _ The Scarlet Letter,  _ the first novel of the year which we’ll be starting later next week.” A couple students groaned, which she promptly ignored. As soon as each student had a paper, she stood at the podium at the front of the classroom, her eyes landing on Wylan. “Hendriks, would you mind reading the first paragraph for us, please?”

Wylan’s head shot up, his fingers frozen where he’d been treating his temples. Then he glanced down at the paper in front of him, staring intently, as if he was trying to unscramble the letters on the page. 

Jesper listed his head, a little worried. What was he waiting for? He nudged Wylan’s elbow. “That’s you, sunshine,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t ignore Nazyalensky if I were you.”

Wylan nodded, showing he was listening, but still he did not read. His fingers bunched in his auburn curls.

“Hendriks.” Nazyalensky’s sharp tone compelled Wylan to meet her stark blue-eyed gaze. “Are you lost?”

A few of his fellow classmates started laughing, hiding their widening grins behind the cages of their fingers. Jesper cast them the darkest of glares. 

Wylan swallowed hard, seemingly mortified, and admitted, “No, I just can’t read it.”

“What do you mean, you can’t read it?”

The laughter grew louder - or, at least it did to Jesper, because Nazyalensky didn’t seem to notice. Wylan’s face turned a bright cherry red. “I’m dyslexic. Sometimes I just can’t untangle the words. I’m sorry.”

Jesper blinked from behind him, mouth slightly open.

Nazyalensky stared at Wylan a moment longer before looking over his shoulder to Jesper. “Fahey, take his place.”

Wylan plunked his head on the desk, covering himself with his arms and muffling the sound of Jesper’s voice reading the words he couldn’t even decipher. Jesper’s heart dropped to his stomach, barely processing the sounds passing through his lips.

Wylan flew out of his desk the moment the bell rang. Jesper’s heart skipped a beat, and he sprinted out of the classroom, realized he’d forgotten his hat, darted back inside, nabbed it, and ran back out after Wylan. He’d nearly made it out of the hall between the 700 and 800 buildings by the time Jesper caught up to him and poked his shoulder. “Hey, sunshine.”

Wylan whirled where he’d stopped. Jesper drew up his arm and recoiled. “Yikes. Slow down, there. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m really not in the mood,” said Wylan harshly, then guilt crossed his face, and he hid behind his hands.

“Sorry. Wasn’t trying to make light of the situation.” Jesper gently peeled Wylan’s hands from his face and held them. “As for those kids back there, I know a couple people who’d jump them for you. One of them has this bitching cane, and if he aims just right-”

“Look, I just wanted to get away from them. The way they looked at me,  _ laughed _ at me… Really, I just want to go home or leave campus for a few hours so I can regain my composure or beat my head against a wall until the part of my brain missing, the part that should’ve made sense of the words on that stupid paper in class, clicks into place.” He shook his head and sighed. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but seriously, save your breath. It’s not helping.” Wylan tugged his hands away and started walking again.

Jesper blinked. He didn’t quite understand what he meant about a part of his brain missing, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to let him get away. He hopped in front of him, bringing him back to a halt. “I shall not. You’re upset and I feel obligated to cheer you up.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Doesn’t matter. My self-proclaimed purpose is to make people happy. Or was it something else? I forget, but that’s not the point.”

Wylan tried hard not to, but a small smile cracked across his face.

“Ah-ha!” Jesper hopped in the air and pointed at Wylan. “There it is! That’s what I was looking for! I have served my purpose.” He tossed an arm around his shoulders and started walking with him to his next class. “So, where are you headed?”

“The mathematics department. I have Math Analysis this period.”

“Ooh. Let me guess,” said Jesper flirtatiously. “Is it honors level?”

Wylan nodded, blushing from the way Jesper made it sound so grandiose. Most people felt the urge to vomit the moment they heard “math,” but Jesper acted like it was the sexiest thing he’d ever dreamed of. Judging from his expression, Wylan didn’t know which attitude was worse.

“Oh, hey, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” said Jesper as they rounded the corner into the locker hall. He guided Wylan past the other students meandering all over the place like a dog herding sheep away from the gossip of wolves. “Since you’re new and all, you don’t have very many friends, do you?”

“Yes, if you count my mother. Otherwise, no,” he admitted.

“Awesome.”

“How is that awesome?”

“Because now I have an excuse to bug you during lunch.” Jesper looked down at him, a massive grin splitting his face. “Or, better yet, you could join my little posse up on the roof.”

“The  _ roof _ ? Are you insane?”

“I know, isn’t it great?” They rounded another corner once they’d reached the 1000 building. “And this is where I leave you, I presume?” said Jesper, pausing at the door labeled 1003. In the window was a poster advertising the room’s subject: Math Analysis Honors. 

Wylan nodded.

“Great,” said Jesper. “So this will be where I pick you up at the end of fourth. Kapeesh?”

“Maybe.” Wylan tugged off his glasses and started cleaning them with the soft fabric of his blue button-down shirt. “Who else is in your ‘posse,’ exactly?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.” With that, Jesper patted him on the back and took off for room 1005: GATE Algebra 2.

And, just as he’d promised, Jesper was waiting right outside the door after class had been dismissed. He’d only winked at Wylan before hopping into the current of students heading into the quad for lunch, Wylan scurrying to catch up to him. Jesper didn’t slow pace until he’d reached the back of the 700 building, where he scuttled up the ladder to the roof. At the top, he waited. Wylan anxiously stepped up onto the first rung of the ladder then quickly changed his mind and hopped off. “C’mon, you can do this,” he whispered to himself. “If they can do it, so can you.” Still, he lingered.

“Hey!” called Jesper. “Get up here! You won’t get in trouble. Cross my heart.”

“Yeah, hurry up!” another voice called. It was Nina, at the top. “Jesper’s told us so much about you. Don’t keep us waiting!”

With an obnoxious sigh, Wylan started up the ladder. Jesper helped pull him up onto the roof and braced Wylan’s fall when he tripped over one of the bricks lining the perimeter. “Take it easy,” teased Jesper. A hot flush creeped up Wylan’s neck.

“Jeez, Jes, let the kid sit,” admonished Nina. She’d straightened her luscious brown locks and was wearing a dress accentuating the curves of her hips. “If it’s been a long day for me, I’m sure he feels the same way.” She beamed at Wylan. “I’m Nina, by the way.”

“You’ll find Nina is the vodka aunt of the group,” said Jesper, sitting in the vacant spot beside her. He patted the area of concrete beside him. “Everyone, meet Wylan Hendriks. He’s new to the school. Wylan,” Jesper swept a hand about the circle, “meet everyone.”

“Hi,” said Wylan tentatively, sitting where Jesper had gestured.

“Hello.” Inej waved from where she sat across from him.

“Oh, hey.” Wylan seemed to recognize her - from where, Jesper wasn’t sure. “Inej, right?”

She nodded and bit into an apple. There was a bandage across her nose, enhancing the sullen look plaguing her face. Jesper scowled. Likely another stunt one of her teammates from colorguard pulled and, like always, something Ms. Van Houden did nothing to counter. He’d have to ask her later.

Just then, the sound of footsteps on metal rang behind them. Someone else was coming up the ladder. Wylan’s face went white as a ghost. Kaz appeared at the top of the ladder, a cane hitched under his arm as he crawled onto the roof.

“And that’s Kaz,” said Jesper, pointing. “He’s an asshole.”

Wylan exhaled in relief. He must’ve thought a janitor or security guard had been coming.

“You’re no better,” retorted Kaz with a heavy breath. His voice was as rough as his demeanor. “You’re the last person to run his mouth, spewing the ‘holier-than-thou’ speech.”

“See?” said Jesper. “Asshole.”

Kaz rolled his eyes until the whites showed and sat between Wylan and Inej. But then he met Wylan’s gaze and held it.

“Oh, yeah.” Jesper leaned in and planted his hands on Wylan’s tense shoulders. “This is Wylan Hendriks. He’ll be joining us this year. Be nice or I’ll steal your cane.”

“I’ll break your leg to go with it,” said Kaz, his black eyes flickering to Jesper for only a split second before returning to Wylan. Something nameless flickered within the depth of his gaze. It wasn’t hostile or threatening but it was eerie enough that somehow it didn’t feel quite right. Jesper wondered if they’d already met and had established some kind of bad blood he didn’t know about.

Then Kaz looked down at his phone. “Welcome to the gang,” he muttered, and didn’t look up until the bell rang.

#

**Inej**

All throughout seventh period, Inej kept wincing every time she breathed through her nose, gingerly tapping beneath it to check for blood. Her eyes wouldn’t quit watering, as if she’d inhaled a meadow of pollen dust and it hadn’t quite left her system yet. And it didn’t help that she had to stare at a computer screen the entire last hour before school ended.

She was alone in the library for seventh period study hall, finishing up a round of research for a history paper due in December, when her phone buzzed against her hip. It buzzed two more times in urgent succession before she’d fished it out of her pocket. Texts from Jesper.

_ Hey. _

_ Inej, look at your damn phone. _

_ Inej, stop ignoring me, it hurts my feelings. _

She typed a quick message.

_ What do you need, Jes? _

Two seconds passed, then:

_ What happened to your nose? _

Inej scowled at the screen, not sure how to respond. She didn’t want to lie to Jesper. He cared about her, deeply - worried about her like he would a sister. But that concern could quickly shift into ugly retribution if he knew who hurt her. A risky situation, and unnecessary. She could take care of herself.

She sent a reply.

_ Colorguard _ .

Jesper didn’t miss a beat.

_ Not buying it. Who hit you? _

Stubborn as always.

_ I did, doing tosses with the sabre. Relax, Jes, I’m fine. _

Silence. Then:

_ So, Dunyasha. _

Inej’s nose throbbed with the memory of the incident. The team was rehearsing in the quad that morning, while it was neither too hot nor too cold. Van Houden had the girls practicing with the sabres, refurbished with new strips of snow-white tape and padding at the sharper corners. Inej preferred the flags - it was far more therapeutic, timing each move with each graceful arc of the flowing fabric as it whipped through the air - but she was good with the swords, too. Sometimes, it felt better to be fierce than regal.

“Straighten up.”

Startled, Inej caught her sabre in both hands before it could crack across her toes. Her eyes wildly searched until they met Van Houden’s. “Your posture’s terrible,” she snapped, then continued to Dunyasha, nodding in approval as she performed a flawless twirl of her blade.

Inej furrowed a brow. Her back had been perfectly erect while executing the toss - or had she arched too far back? She gripped the taped blade, knuckles tense against her skin. Every time Van Houden doubted her skill, she fell for the ruse of doubting herself, too. She shook her head and demonstrated another toss. The sabre spun into the air in tight circles before falling into her cradling hands. Again, Inej flipped it into the air, and again it fell neatly into her palms. A wave of triumph washed over her, beaming to herself absently. This was her passion. Not a single jab from Van Houden nor a single dark look from Dunyasha would compel her to give up. She’d make varsity this year. That was her priority. She had to make her parents proud.

Inej tossed the sabre again. When she went to catch it, the pommel of another sword rammed into her nose from the side. Yelping, Inej stumbled back and toppled to the ground, her hands flying up to her nose. Blood gushed from between her fingers. Her sabre hit the ground beside her, barely missing her knee.

“Pay attention to your surroundings!” Dunyasha towered over Inej, sabre held firmly in front of her like a medusa armed with a spear. Maybe if she glared hard enough, Inej would turn to stone. “You got in the way of my range.”

Several of the other girls turned, attention drawn to Dunyasha’s outburst. A couple of them giggled. Others exchanged looks of unease.

“What’s going on here?” Van Houden stormed forward, hands on hips and wine-red lips pursed thin.

“Nothing,” said Inej, pressing her wrist to her nose to staunch the bleeding. “It was an accident.”

Dunyasha smirked. Inej wouldn’t have let her get away with it if Van Houden were reasonable. But she’d chosen a side long ago - a sudden change of heart would’ve meant she was on her death bed and wanted rid of a guilty conscience. That is, if she even had one.

Van Houden looked down her nose at Inej, her blue eyes full of contempt. “Varsity won’t accept clumsy candidates, Ghafa,” she hissed. “Perhaps you’d be better off as a T.A.” Then she strutted to the front of the team, facing all the girls. “Get back in formation. We’ve wasted enough time already, thanks to your teammate.”

Sulking, Inej clambered to her feet, ignoring Dunyasha’s smug glances her way. Only after the period ended did she go to the nurse in the health office to patch up her nose. She’d been getting funny looks the rest of the day - even Kaz stared at her for a good few seconds when she’d arrived late to third, but he hadn’t questioned.

Jesper’s text stared back up at Inej, almost impatiently, as if he could reach through the screen and throttle her at any moment for a response. Finally, she sent:

_I just don’t want you to worry._ _Karma will get her someday._

Jesper didn’t keep her waiting.

_ Damn straight, if my middle name ain’t Karma. _

She grinned.

_ I thought it was Llewellyn. _

This time, he sent her a snapchat, which she promptly opened. He frowned at her through the screen, his lips turned sharply downward at the corners. Text reading “ _ Fuck you _ ” occupied the space beneath his chin.

The door to the library opened. Inej scrambled to put her phone away, in case it was the librarian Mr. Retvenko, but froze. Kaz limped past the threshold, jamming his cane beneath the door before it could close in his face, and crossed over to one of the tables between the rows of bookshelves. He looked around, saw her, and paused.

Shutting down her computer, Inej snagged her backpack by the straps and joined him. “The bell hasn’t rung yet.”

“Mr. Haskell let me go early.”

“How’d you twist his ear this time?”

“I said I needed to study for a math test tomorrow.”

“Kaz, really?”

“I wasn’t lying.” Kaz pulled out a laptop from his backpack, set it on the table, and flipped up the lid. “I do have a test tomorrow, and I do need to study for it, but that wasn’t my purpose in leaving class early. It’s not my fault Haskell didn’t pick up on that.”

“One day, all your teachers are going to realize their precious little pet - that’s you - isn’t as precious as he makes himself out to be. They’ll realize you’re the one breaking through the firewall and hacking the gradebooks and stealing answer keys. Eventually, your reputation will diminish as much as your integrity. Then you’re screwed.”

Kaz typed in his password. “If I wasn’t mistaken, Inej, I’d be worried you’d lost faith in me.”

Inej sat in the chair next to him and looked over his shoulder at his screen. “So what crime are you committing today?”

“Unrestricting some of the webpages through administration.”

Inej eyed him from the side. “Which webpages, Kaz?”

Kaz propped his chin on his fist, elbow perched on the table, and faced her. “I’m curious to know what’s crossed your mind. Maybe you could give me some ideas.”

“Here’s one. Don’t do it.”

“Pornhub. Got it.”

Inej reached over and slapped his laptop shut. “You need to stop this.”

Kaz opened the laptop again. “I really don’t.”

“Don’t you want to go to college?”

“What, so I can join a fraternity and get a PhD?”

“You have the grades for it. Of all the people’s deficiencies you’ve tampered with, you’ve never done it with your own. You wouldn’t dare. Quit acting like you don’t dream of a better future, a better life than you’re living now out in the ghetto.”

Kaz set his jaw in a hard line, the face he always made during confrontation. His silence unnerved her. She knew for a fact he’d heard every word she’d said. Maybe he was keeping himself from responding to her like he would to Jesper or Nina - not that she could see why that would matter to him.

However, he’d acted awfully funny during fifth period lunch. The moment he’d seen Wylan, he’d fallen silent, almost sulky, as if he didn’t really like the idea of another tagalong to the group. Maybe his attitude then lingered into his disposition now.

Finally, he turned back to his laptop and pulled up the HTML coding of the search engine for the school. “It never bothered you in the past.”

“It didn’t, until you broke into the coffee shop.”

“I only wanted to see you,” he said mockingly. Inej smacked his shoulder. “That hurt.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“You’re right. It didn’t.”

Inej shook her head and rose from the table. “The bell’s going to ring in a few.” She nodded to the clock on the wall.

“Not so fast.” Kaz held up a hand, then pointed to her nose. “What happened there?”

“You couldn’t have asked earlier?”

“Didn’t want to bring too much attention to you.”

“How thoughtful.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder. “Ask Jesper. He can fill you in.” Then she turned on her heel and left the library, leaving Kaz all by himself.

#

**Kaz**

The second he got home, Kaz deposited his backpack by the door and plopped down onto the little sofa right smack in the middle of the apartment, rearranging envelopes on the coffee table to boot up his laptop. He ignored the mail - probably bills - and swiftly keyed into his search engine  _ Wylan Hendriks. _

How the hell did Jesper know the kid? And why did he bring him to the group? Sure, maybe the kid was alone, and perhaps, if it had been anyone else, Kaz wouldn’t have cared less. But no, it had to be the one person he was hired to harass. Now he was at risk of discovery. He’d have to do everything he could to ensure the security of his identity while keeping Van Eck satisfied.

But now that he’d actually seen the kid, it’d be much easier to do his research.

Kaz scanned the results page. One of the first links to pop up was a Twitter handle.

@_wylanhendrix

He clicked on it. The profile picture depicted a photo of a redheaded boy about sixteen years old, sitting at a wooden desk and staring intently at a computer screen in front of him. He held a bulky pen in his left hand, poised above a slim black tablet - a second screen - hooked up to the computer. Kaz had seen similar tablets, even used one, when he’d taken a semester of graphic design in sophomore year.

The kid, Wylan, was an artist. And a damn good one, Kaz recognized, as he scrolled down his timeline. Drawings littered the page: pencil sketches, digital pieces, and cartoon character designs akin to Disney and Pixar. Nina would’ve thought it cute.

Kaz scratched the back of his head. A geeky-looking artist, thin as a ruler with a freckled face and a disposition like that of a puppy. The kid was harmless enough. What was Van Eck’s grudge? He looked nothing like the delinquent he described. He doubted he was even capable of the carnage Kaz was more apt to cause. So why the animosity? Whatever it was, it was none of his concern. He didn’t care to know, either.

He started to exit out the page when a particular sketch caught his eye. Kaz clicked on it and set it to fill the screen. It was a drawing of a little woman sitting on a stool before an easel, guiding the hand of a little curly-haired boy in which he held a paint brush to the canvas. His bright blue eyes were massive, whimsical, full of delight. Beneath the easel, Wylan had signed it with a W.H., a smiley face, and the date he finished it.

5 / 8 / 16.

Mother’s Day.

Kaz snorted. So Van Eck hated the supposed hoodlum who doubled as a mama’s boy?  _ Whatever _ . Then again, even Kaz knew better than to trust appearances - you never knew what hid beneath the mask. Still, something didn’t feel quite right about the whole situation.

He backed out of the page and searched the kid again, discovering a Tumblr account with the same username, drawings, and all. Each post had well over a few thousand notes. Kaz’s brow twitched. Not a single picture was accompanied by a caption.

Returning to his search engine, Kaz loaded his e-mail and found a new message in his inbox written in bold, waiting, almost expectant, to be opened. It was from Van Eck. The subject read:

_ Don’t bother reading the contents. You know what to do. _

“Like I care,” grunted Kaz. He copied the attachment to another page, encrypted it so it couldn’t be traced to neither him nor Van Eck, then sent it to the address the man claimed belonged to Hendriks. Perhaps the contents of the attachment weren’t the friendliest, but a job this simple was worth the money, and God knows the Rietvelds needed it. And for all he knew, it would end up in the kid’s spam.

The door to the apartment creaked open, and Kaz shut his laptop with a loud snap. Jordie came in, face flushed red and eyes drooping with exhaustion, and sauntered into the tiny kitchen. Kaz watched him, head immobile, eyes sliding in their sockets. Jordie set a coffee cup from that morning into the sink with a clink, then paused with his hands - covered in dirt and grime - gripping the edge of the counter, as if to steady himself. He looked ready to vomit.

“What, Kaz?” He must’ve sensed his staring.

“Ever figured working a welding job overtime isn’t the healthiest choice? You look like death.”

Jordie scowled at him. “Thanks, punk.”

“Just saying. We have alternatives to paying the bills.”

“Speaking of which.” Jordie crossed the tiny apartment floor to the coffee table. “Rollins should’ve sent an invoice by now.”

“Maybe you ought to roll it up and stick it up his ass where it belongs.”

“I don’t think that’s valid payment.”

Kaz shrugged.

“Here it is.” Jordie snatched up an envelope and sat on the sofa beside Kaz. He slid a pocket knife from his back pocket and sliced the packet open, tugging out the invoice and unfolding it. His face paled. “Fucking hell.”

“Let me see.” Kaz reached for the bill.

“No.” Jordie held it out at arm’s length.

“He upped the rent, didn’t he?”

“You’re not the one paying it. It’s none of your concern.”

“Yes, it is. It decides whether or not I get evicted along with you.”

Jordie set his jaw in frustration. It was the one face he made that made him look identical to his little brother. Both of them had hard faces built for hard expressions, and they wore them well.

“Fine.” Jordie brought the bill forward for Kaz to see. Kaz narrowed his eyes - he’d skipped putting in his contacts that morning, and his glasses were tucked away elsewhere in his room. It did nothing to inhibit his disgust at the number on the page.

$800. Due two weeks from today.

“Double the amount last month.” Jordie groaned and tossed the bill haplessly at the table. It soared right over it and onto the carpeted floor.

“And what’s your income?”

“Three, four hundred a week. But I don’t get paid until next Monday, and even then, it won’t be enough.” He curled his fingers into his dark messy hair. “I’ll have to withdraw from my savings.”

Kaz feigned a sudden realization. “Or, better yet,” he said with mock delight, “we can use the money Dad left us in his will.”

Jordie shot him a black look. “No.”

“Seriously, Jordie?”

“That’s not what that money’s intended for.” He flew to his feet and rounded on his brother. “You know that.”

“Yes, well.” Kaz held his hands apart, palms heavenward. “Dire times.”

“And we’ll get through them using other means.”

“What’s so special about that money?” Kaz hitched forward from the sofa. “Where are you keeping it? Do we even  _ have  _ it?”

“Of course, we do. What, you think I gambled it away?”

“I think you did something with it. A failed investment. Depreciated stocks. Whatever. What I  _ don’t  _ think is we have any of it anymore because you fucked up and don’t want to admit it.”

Jordie’s tone was ice cold. “You tried looking for it, didn’t you?”

“So what if I did?”

“You don’t trust me.”

“You’re never home,” snarled Kaz, blood boiling. “And I know you’re not always working.  _ Are _ you gambling? Heading out to bars, drinking yourself stupid, whoring it up at some motel?”

“Fuck off, Kaz. You don’t know shit, so knock it off with the accusations.”

“Then tell me the goddamn truth.”

“I did. And you threw it back in my face.”

“Pardon me for being a bit skeptical. We live in a complex run by a mob boss. If you really want to make life better for us, we’d rent someplace else so we can escape this gang-infested hell hole swarming with people seeking to rob us of what little we have left. Damn it, Jordie, I’m sick of the rats and filth. Don’t act like you don’t want out of here as much as I do.”

Jordie pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away. Kaz dug his nails into the microfiber cushion of the sofa. He knew the fortune they had - or should have - would be enough even to buy a small house and new furniture if necessary. What was Jordie’s hesitation? A college fund was unlikely - there were two of them, and Kaz doubted it was enough to afford a decent education, text books, food, and God knows what else for the both of them. Perhaps it was for emergencies. Perhaps Jordie did spend it all. Perhaps there had been nothing to begin with. The thought felt like someone thrust a fork in his guts and twisted twice.

“I promise it won’t always be like this,” said Jordie softly. He faced Kaz, his expression sorrowful. “Believe me when I say I’m doing everything I can to make ends meet. I’ll always do my best, for your sake. You’re my little brother. I’d do anything for you. But I also made a promise to Dad regarding that money. It has a purpose, and it’s not paying bills. I’m sorry. I won’t betray him.”

Kaz said nothing.

Jordie hung his head. “I mean it. I’m sorry. Really.”

“For what? Keeping your promise to a dead man?”

“Kaz!”

“It’s fine. Don’t tell me anything.” He sat back and pulled his computer onto his lap. “Keep your secrets. Do what you want. I’ll do the same.”

“You don’t have any secrets.”

“Wow.” Kaz was almost offended. “You really don’t know me anymore, do you?”

Jordie seethed. “No kidding.” Then he stormed off into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. Kaz braced his head against his hands and exhaled sharply through his nose. Maybe he should feel guilty, like he did when they were kids and he’d shoved Jordie down the stairs, or accidentally whacked him in the face with a tree brnach he’d pretended was a sword. But neither of them kept secrets back then, nor were they children now. Maybe the part of him capable of such remorse was broken. Maybe he just didn’t care enough.

Jordie did not come out of the room, and Kaz slept on the sofa that night.

#


	8. TMD Ch. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nina reminisces about her past with Matthias before they speak face-to-face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter only has one P.O.V. as each chapter is split up by the dates that certain events happen. Also, it may read like it was a little rushed, which was not my intention. I hope it does not come across that way.  
> Nevertheless, enjoy!

**13 September 2016**

**Nina**

“What the hell are you staring at?”

Nina flinched, startled by the wisp of breath tickling her ear. “Can you be any creepier?” she snapped under her breath at Kaz, who pulled back slightly. “Normal people would tap your shoulder first, or say your name. But no, you have to be some fucking weirdo.”

“I’m weird?” Kaz listed his head. “I’m not the one ogling the jock sitting across the room from us.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Someone from behind shushed them. Kaz and Nina whirled in their seats, shooting the kid a death glare fit for twins standing in the hallway of a horror movie. The kid ducked while the boy next to him - Nina recognized him as Wylan - waved at them with a sheepish grin, a protractor held between his middle and ring fingers. Nina winked at him, and she and Kaz faced the front of the room again.

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Kaz, plucking up his pencil and jotting down the next problem from their shared math textbook into his notebook.

“It’s none of your business,” said Nina. “For number seven, you got three pi divided by two, right?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

“Isn’t that the guy you hit with your car?”

Nina groaned. “Holy fuck, will you let it go?”

“Never.”

“Do your homework,” she said.

“Already am.” Kaz boxed an answer and scribbled another equation.

Nina rolled her eyes and looked down at her work - then slid her gaze to the side. Matthias’s desk was at the front by the teacher’s, far away from Nina. He hovered over his paper, looking up only to check his textbook then hunching back down again. Hyperfocused and diligent as always. No wonder Brum loved him so much.

It only made sense Matthias followed him to Ketterdam High. Loyalty was one of his strengths - and a fault. He’d lost his parents weeks before the start of freshman year, and Brum, the only fatherly figure present in his life at the time, took him under his wing. Nina couldn’t blame Matthias for his adoration of the man - but damn him for how he’d treated her because of it.

When they’d met freshman year, sitting side by side in English, she’d teased him relentlessly about his handwriting - a neat cursive, words tight and compact. “ _You write like a girl_.”

“ _I do not_.”

“ _Hey, it’s not a bad thing. It’s actually kinda cute_.”

The boy had turned such a deep shade of red he’d looked sunburnt.

Despite their bickering, they became quick friends. They were all they had to each other, and they embraced it. He’d meet her everyday at lunch beneath a tree by the gym, where she’d help him with his math assignments. He was a bright kid, but hopeless when it came to algebra. And on the days they’d finished early, they’d talked. She learned about his parents - both in the military, both from decent backgrounds. They moved around a lot when he was a kid, dragging him and his baby sister wherever they were needed in the country. The week they landed in Ketterdam, the fort they were stationed was shot up. And so the Helvar children were transferred to a foster home in the inner city.

It made sense why Matthias bonded so strongly with his coach, so much he’d do anything for him. Even if it meant putting Nina on the backburner for the sake of playoffs.

Before that, Nina was practically his biggest fan. She went to every hockey game, cheered at the top of her lungs, tried to distract the other team’s goaltender. She’d dance to the songs, start waves in the crowd, sometimes make cheesy signs to make Matthias laugh while he was in play, like _Helvar is my hero_ or _The one wearing #6 is a hottie_. Once, she’d convinced the people in the crowd to hold up posters with individual letters to spell out: _H._ _E. L. V. A. R. @. F. O. R. M. A. L. ?_

The moment he’d left the locker room to meet her outside the ice rink, he’d given a hearty, “ _Yes_ !” and hugged her. He’d just showered and doused himself in a light mist of cologne. He’d smelled good. He’d _felt_ good.

They went to the dance as friends, dressed in their finest only to act their silliest - they were kids, after all. Neither one of them could actually dance, but they’d enjoyed themselves, nonetheless.

He hadn’t just been a friend. He’d been her best and only friend.

It was the most painful thing when Brum had called her a distraction. Playoffs for the high school varsity teams were right around the bend, he’d said, and Matthias needed to quit slacking off and devote his attention to the team. Apparently, he’d skipped practice twice for Nina, but she’d had no idea of the sacrifices he made. Not until Brum had caught them outside the gym one day. Matthias needed to own up to his priorities. Nina needed to back off.

And so, she had. And she’d barely heard from him since - not until the day after the final game, where Djerholm High placed second. He’d been strolling through the parking lot, heading to first period. Nina had taken her friend Genya’s car to school, having taught herself the basics once she’d turned fifteen, and she’d seen him in the left rearview mirror. He’d seemed happy. No smiles, no skips in his steps, just calm content. She wanted to be happy for him - a petty attitude didn’t look good on anyone - but she’d still been hurting. She’d felt bitter.

She didn’t know what demon took ahold of her right then, but it compelled her to put the gears in reverse and, the moment he passed behind her, stamp the gas pedal.

A yelp tore from him as the back bumper struck his leg. He’d collapsed, unknown to her, and swore loudly as the tire rolled over his shin. Nina had gasped and pulled forward. She hadn’t meant to go that far.

She’d flown out of the car and rushed to Matthias’s side. “Crap, sorry,” she rambled. “Fucking shit, it was only supposed to be a love tap, damn it. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“What?” he’d shouted, bewildered. “What was _that_ for?”

“I think you already know, but it doesn’t matter.” Kneeling, she looped an arm under both of his and dragged him to his feet. “We need to get to the nurse.”

“Nina-”

“No, I’m not talking to you.”

“But-”

“Stop.” She’d looked him dead in the eye. “I mean it.”

And so he’d shut his mouth in gloomy silence. She’d taken him to the health office, dropped him off, and didn’t see him again for over two years. She’d transferred to Ketterdam, met Inej and Jesper and Kaz, and almost forgot the whole debacle.

Now Matthias was back in her life. Bigger, strong, with longer hair and a beard of stubble. But he was still the same loyal boy from Djerholm, and he was still avoiding her.

Maybe it was for the best. They were different people now. There was no guarantee they would’ve stayed friends back then, even if Brum hadn’t intervened. As a varsity player, he’d already been busy enough as a freshman. Chances are, he’d worked his ass off the past two years and would’ve barely had time for her anyway.

The thought brought her very little comfort.

The bell rang. Students flocked to the door, racing out to lunch, but Nina took her time packing. Kaz didn’t rush either - he waited patiently, scrolling through his phone and lounging back in his desk. “You look comfy,” said Nina, zipping up her bag and rising from her chair. “I almost feel bad to make you get up.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” Kaz whipped up his cane and stood. “I choose to.”

Nina scoffed. “Sure. Yeah. Totally believe you.”

“Your sarcasm is second-rate.” Kaz stepped outside, Nina at his side. “And no one says ‘totally’ anymore.”

“Look, you nit-picky bastard-”

“Nina.”

She slowed to a halt and turned. Matthias stood three feet away, looking pitiful as a scolded puppy, his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. Subtle guilt riddled his features.

Kaz leaned in and whispered in Nina’s ear, “I think your boy toy wants to have a talk with you.”

“Go away.” Nina shoved his shoulder. Kaz didn’t even react - just slinked away and into the shadows of the locker hall like an enigma. Folding her arms, Nina faced Matthias with her feet planted firmly in the same spot. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him. This would suffice. “What?” Her tone was civil yet rigid.

Matthias grimaced. “Why surround yourself with bad company?” He nodded in the direction Kaz disappeared.

“Kaz is the exception,” she admitted. “Inej and Jesper are decent people, but Kaz is complicated.” She stumbled on the last word. “What’s it matter to you who I hang out with, anyway?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “But that’s aside the point. I need to tell you something.”

Nina folded her arms. “I’m all ears.”

At first, he said nothing - only shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, his eyes to the ground. Tentatively, he took a few steps toward her, closing the gap between them. She didn’t move. Then, with a sharp inhale, Matthias looked her in the eye. “I wanted to apologize.”

Nina stared at him.

“For everything,” he clarified quickly. “For pushing you away. For ignoring you. For hurting your feelings.” He never broke eye contact. “I was wrong.”

“You mean Brum was wrong.”

He flinched.

“Seriously, Matt? Can’t you think for yourself at least once in a while?”

“Of course, I can.” His words took on an edge like a knife to stone.

“Really? Because it wasn’t your choice to come here. It was Brum’s. It wasn’t your choice to abandon me. It was Brum’s. You’re kind of a kiss-ass.”

“That’s not fair, Nina. Ultimately, those were my decisions. Why else would I apologize to you? I screwed up. Coach was only looking out for me, even though…” He trailed off in hesitation. “Even though he was wrong about you.” His face twisted as if he’d committed heresy.

Nina pursed her lips. Maybe he had a point. In the end, he had the final say in his actions every single time. He could’ve told Brum to shove it outside the gym that day. He could’ve stayed behind in Djerholm, where the rest of his friends and his team would be there for him. He didn’t have to do any of the things he did, but he chose to. Still, Brum was always the instigator. She sighed. “Well, I appreciate your apology. I guess I’m sorry I hit you with a car.”

Matthias’s mouth hung open, entirely caught off-guard with the change of subject. Then he snorted, doubling over in laughter. At first, Nina glowered at him until she realized then just how ridiculous it sounded when she’d said it out loud. A giggle bubbled up from her chest, and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

Once his laughing diminished, Matthias straighted up and rubbed his wrist over his brow. “I forgive you,” he said through a small chuckle. “It was a long time ago, anyway.”

“And clearly, you’re walking just fine.”

Matthias nodded. “Yeah.” He adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. “So,” he began, “are we good? Or, at least, better than before?” His eyes glittered hopefully. Nina had forgotten just how pretty a shade of blue they were. Tranquil and bright, like morning glory.

Nina wanted to say yes. Once upon a time, they were like two peas in a pod. But those days were long since past. “Maybe?” she offered. “But like you said, it was a long time ago. I don’t really know you anymore, despite how terrible that sounds.”

The amusement faded from Matthias’s features. “Oh.” He shifted his weight again. “Alright.” Then, standing still, he finally gave her a curt nod. “I guess I’ll see you around.” With slow, measured steps, he passed Nina for the locker halls. His arm brushed hers - not from resentment but a simple bumbling mistake. Nina’s heart sank.

She watched him lumber into the halls and out of sight.

#


End file.
